#not part of the tyler tongue collection but still | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

satuguro · 2 years ago

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✧*ೃ࿐ TONGUES & TEETH

[ ACT V: AN ANGEL'S FRAGILITY ]

xavier thorpe x valkyrie! reader

#SYNOPSIS— you and xavier go for a walk, you and enid think that tyler's an uber driver, and xavier needs to figure out his feelings.

#CONTAINS— enemies to fwb to lovers, slowburn, academic rivals, intimidating and flawed reader, familial issues (will be mentioned in this part), gore, blood, death, aged up characters (everyone is 18 except for eugene), sexual content (in this part & some other parts)

#AUTHORSNOTE— this took me longer to write for some reason but it's okay. thank you for all the support lately ily all xx

ACT I, ACT II, ACT III, ACT IV, ACT V, ACT VI

xavier didn’t like hospitals.

he didn't particularly spend a lot of his time in them, but when he did, he always hated it. the florescent lights, the strong smell of sickness and cleaner intermingled in the air, and the patients he passed by on the way to your room. all of them, either awake or asleep, had someone in the room with them; holding their hand, praying, talking with them. helping them.

he had to admit, it was awkward coming to visit you with weems. but weems offered to drive him so long as he kept a low profile about your condition, so he agreed to tag along. you were finally announced as stable after five days in the hospital; he guessed that having godly blood helped.

but while everyone had people in their rooms, all of them caring for their loved one so deeply, so tenderly, your room had only a black dahlia, a bouquet of baby's breath and lavender, and one of your mugs on a table.

the dahlia was from wednesday. the bouquet was from enid. xavier had brought you one of your own mugs the day prior.

but as he and weems entered the room, there was a woman standing at your right side. her hair was long and blonde, tied into a long dutch braid that reached all the way down to her hips. she wore a white turtleneck under a black trenchcoat and was the same height as weems. in her hands was your leather jacket from the night of your attack, now neatly sewn as though it hadn't been ripped to shreds.

none of your siblings looked like each other. you all had different mothers, but you all had odin's blood.

xavier placed his own gift next to their's; a random collection of your mugs from art class, and a pot you had made in pottery with a single white orchid in it. weems placed an envelope and a 'get well soon' balloon in the corner that xavier knew you'd poke fun at.

"you're one of y/n's sisters— eir, was it?" weems asked, approaching the valkyrie.

"yes. we met on y/n's first day." eir glanced at xavier, who only stood far behind weems. he looked perturbed, his jaw clenched as he sent daggers towards eir, but eir only sent him a kind smile before focusing on you again.

"i'm truly sorry for what has happened to your sister," weems continued, clasping her hands in front of her as she observed your sleeping face. "i'm sure that y/n has told you about her adventures—"

"it's all she ever truly talks about," eir laughed softly to herself, "she has always been drawn to trouble. even as a child— i'm sure you've seen it in her old forms."

"i have." an uncomfortable silence hovered in the air. the only thing that filled the quiet was the beeping of your monitor.

usually, when xavier came to visit you, he went alone or with enid. wednesday hadn't spoken a word to him since the attack.

xavier held you for what felt like hours. he rocked you back and forth as your sobs died down into sniffles. he pressed a quivering kiss to the top of your head as he breathed heavily in the cold. your hands were still wrapped around him, gripping his shirt.

until they fell at his sides, limp and lifeless.

"y/n? fuck, y/n?" xavier pulled you away from his chest to look at you. he desperately moved your hair from your face, his hands shaking violently as he held you in his arms. your eyes were shut, your face peaceful but lacking any sign of life. panic settled into his body as he shook you gently, careful not to move your wings. "y/n, answer me, c'mon," he pleaded, feeling the burn of tears behind his eyes.

your blood was everywhere; all over his hands, all over his pants and on his shirt. but the worst thing about feeling your blood wasn't that it was warm; it was that it was turning cold.

the sound of running footsteps on fallen leaves made him look up, a small sense of relief overcoming him when he saw wednesday with thornhill close in tow.

"get away from her," wednesday seethed, and with that, every ounce of relief disappeared from his body. she ran up to the other side of your body, her eyes widening at the sight of your snapped wings. "what did you do?!"

"you can't be serious, wednesday, she's dying!" xavier yelled, his eyes pleading for help as he fixed you in his arms. "we," he sniffed harshly, "we have to get her and eugene out of here. now."

"her wings will only bring her more pain," thornhill murmured, making xavier look at her in horror. eyes were set on something glinting in the distance, and she made her way towards it quickly. she returned with your sword in her hands, the weight heavy but manageable.

"no, you can't do that to her," xavier shook his head at he held you closer to him. it was a pathetic attempt to get you away as thornhill neared. "you can't cut off her wings ms. thornhill—"

"we need to do this, xavier. it will make it easier for us to get her to the hospital quicker." thornhill huffed as she raised the sword up, the weight far too heavy in her hands. it glinted in the moonlight menacingly, shining down on its owner. "i'm sure she'll understand."

"ms. thornhill, don't—" wednesday protested, but it was already too late.

thornhill let the sword fall on the elbow of your wings with a sickening thump. the sound of your bones and skin being cut seemed to echo in the woods like a haunting whisper. when one came off, the other followed.

"i'm going to visit eugene," weems said as she passed xavier, who could only nod as she left. yet again, there was that uncomfortable silence in the air as he stood in the room with eir. quietly, he moved to your other side as he peered at you.

you were so peaceful when you slept. your hair was a mess on the hospital white pillow, but it surrounded your head like a halo. your eyes were shut gently, and it looked as though you were only sleeping.

sometimes, xavier forgot you were quite literally an angel on earth.

your wings, now cut down to what xavier assumed was its elbow, was behind your back, completely bandaged. the hospital did everything they could to stop your wings from bleeding, but you lost so much blood; not only in the forest, but under their care. rumors circulated around school that you almost died.

"the nurses told me you and some girls visited her every day." eir spoke with a soft nordic accent, but she was easy to understand. she glanced at xavier with the same irises you had; calculating, strategic, and observant.

always on guard.

"the girls were enid and wednesday, her roommates." eir's eyebrows raised at his bitter tone, but said nothing as xavier continued. "i'm xavier. her.. friend."

eir placed the jacket in her hands on a nearby chair, smoothing it out as she left it. "it's our father's jacket," eir explained, her tone gentle, "he gave it to her years ago, when he saw her last." she turned to xavier, her eyes cold but her smile warm. "thank you for visiting her, xavier. i'm sure she'd be happy to know that you have come here every day—"

"where have you been?"

"excuse me?" eir blinked as she looked at xavier, who looked at her with a dirty look.

"you're her sister. one of nine, from what i heard from enid, and yet this is the first time i've seen anyone from her family visit," xavier scoffed, shaking his head to himself, "and only one of you showed up." his voice was pained; not for himself, but for you.

xavier knew what it was like to be lonely, to exist without the presence with others. he knew better than most how it felt to roam an empty home like a ghost, how it felt to be treated as though he wasn't even there. he knew how it felt to be in a room full of people and still be seen as nothing more than someone's shadow.

and to see you, someone who quite literally lost their wings over someone else, it pained him to see that it took your family nearly a week to appear.

"where's her dad— odin?"

"elsewhere."

"he couldn't even appear for her? not even for this— a near death experience?" xavier asked with a mirthless laugh, "does he even care for her?"

a smile appeared on eir's face, like a shadow from the sun. it brought nothing but anger to xavier to see her smile at his accusations, but she knew fully well that xavier was right. odin didn't want to appear, even when his daughter was within death's grasp. her sisters were off doing their jobs in other countries, all too deep in their jobs to manage time for their little sister. eir continued to say, "are you aware that y/n is the weakest of my sisters?"

"that isn't what we're talking about—"

"she is the youngest. the first born in the modern age; the rest of us were born millennia ago," eir looked at you fondly, one of her hands reaching out to touch your face. she stroked your skin under her calloused fingertips, a small sign of love. "valkyries age slowly— we aren't goddesses, you know. but many of us become stronger the more we age," eir shook her head, laughing softly to herself, "but not y/n."

"her body is weaker than ours. her back cripples when her strength runs thin and her skin bruises when you punch it— not like the others." eir shook her head, her hair flowing like water with her movements. "my sisters and i have seen vikings fall at our feet. men and women alike have begged us for mercy," eir swallowed as her face suddenly turned cold. it was as though she was reminiscing the memory of soldiers clawing at the ground as she pulled them away from their world, their pleads still fresh in her ears. "but y/n.. she fell at the feet of others."

"why are you telling me this?" xavier couldn't help but ask, his curiosity getting the better of him as he looked between you and eir.

"because all y/n knows is survival," eir stated with a sigh, "my sisters only know war. we grew up under the safety of our father, but y/n has never been as lucky," a bitter smile tugged at her lips, "it was as though trouble was constantly in her wake. war is temporary, but for it to happen every day in nearly every home you had," she spat her words out like poison, her words gritted and forced, "is cruel. it's cruel and merciless."

"where were you?" xavier asked, his voice no louder than a whisper. her entire explanation of your history did nothing to coerce his anger; if anything, it only made him angrier. eir's eyes looked into his, shining brightly with tears as she answered.

"valhalla. odin didn't deem y/n worthy enough to be with us," eir sniffed harshly, a hand coming up to wipe her nose. the valkyrie cleared her throat, fixing her trench coat over her body. "her wings will grow back when she truly needs them. it will be a painful process, but i am sure that you will be with her, xavier thorpe."

before xavier could protest, eir already left, leaving nothing that even showed that she had arrived in the first place.

you woke up without that familiar weight on your back.

your hands shook as you reached behind you, a whimper leaving your lips when you were met with your clipped wings.

and with that, you screamed again. nurses and doctors alike rushed into your room. you fought them all off, your recuperating strength almost no match for all of them at once. like a wild animal, you shoved them all off, your cries of horror being carried out into the pale hallways of the hospital.

"who did this to me?" you demanded, "who did this to me?!" your eyes burned red with tears as you fought against their restraints. tears streamed down your face as you wailed for the wings that had been so cruelly taken from you. the one thing that provided you peace and tranquil was mercilessly torn away from your hold, like a child whose mother was ripped away from them.

you knew you were lucky enough to still have the roots of your wings intact. that meant it could grow, but you had seen how painful wing regrowth was. how the sickening crunch of a wing being forcefully regrown brought on unimaginable pain.

but wing regrowth only happened when it needed to happen.

your punches and kicks were rendered into nothing as a doctor put a syringe into your neck, and the world went black again.

you were dispatched the next day, as your wings had miraculously healed their cuts. they were small and useless now, nothing more than an ornament you held on your back. they couldn't fold into your back anymore, only folding close to your body as you walked down the hallway of the hospital.

deep eye bags hung under your eyes as you roamed the hospital like a ghost. nurses, doctors, visitors, and patients alike watched you in awe, for in their eyes, all they saw was an angel with clipped wings. but you paid them no mind, too numb and too exhausted to care as you arrived in the doorway of a patient. your hand held a singular sunflower.

eugene's room was bare, but had a small mason jar of honey that someone from nevermore had brought. it brought a smile to your face to see it, but your smile didn't last when you landed on eugene's form.

the glow was soft around him, almost barely visible in the sunlight that shone over his body through the window. but you saw the golden particles that surrounded him; the gods were still deciding whether he would stay or he would go.

"you're y/n."

you turned around, eyes widening when you saw his moms. "i.. i just wanted to visit him—" you swallowed thickly, looking back at eugene's body. the machine on his nose and mouth that helped him breathe and the scars that littered his face made those familiar tears start up again.

you did this to him. you didn't protect him.

"i'm sue, this is janet," sue said softly, placing a small beehive sculpture onto a nearby table. she looked at you with a soft smile, taking in your weakened form. "honey, are you okay?"

"i'm so," you swallowed, avoiding their gaze as you felt the tears start up again, "i'm so sorry."

wordlessly, one of his moms stepped forward and engulfed you in her arms. your arms were dead at your sides, the guilt rippling through your body like crashing waves as janet wrapped her arms around you too.

they held you so tight. so tight.

"he talks about you and wednesday all the time," sue laughed as she and janet finally pulled away from you, "he always talked about how cool he thought you were."

you smiled, shaking your head to yourself. "he reminds me a lot of the friends i made in my foster homes," you said softly, looking at eugene fondly.

he was like a little brother you never had.

"thank you."

you furrowed your brows in confusion at that, turning your head towards janet. "what for?"

"for protecting him." janet looked at your wings, nothing but empathy in her eyes.

you clenched your jaw, the words doing nothing to calm the turmoil of guilt in your mind. but after a second you forced a tight lipped smile. "i have to go— weems is waiting for me outside." you moved past them awkwardly, avoiding their gaze. "i'll visit him as often as i can."

you retrieved your things from the hospital on your way out. your leather jacket was all fixed, to your surprise, and you pulled it over yourself before you walked out to the hospital parking lot. with your items in a box— you silently wondered who had brought a variety of your mugs and the orchid, as the other gifts were obviously from your roommates— you walked out of the hospital. weems stood next to her car, her outfit, hair, and makeup as perfect as ever. but even in her usually unreadable eyes, you saw sympathy.

you didn't like sympathy.

"it's nice to see that you are strong once again, y/n," weems commented, and you only forced a tight lipped smile.

"yeah. i guess the gods didn't think it was my time yet," you said dryly, already making your way into the passenger seat of the car.

the ride to nevermore was silent, as you weren't really in the mood to socialize with anyone. you simply watched the forest pass you by from the window.

"when we return to nevermore, it will be the beginning of parent's weekend," weems interrupted your contented silence, "i suggest you keep eugene's condition under wraps as to not cause panic."

"to not cause panic?" you echoed in disbelief, turning to the principal with a skeptic look, "principal weems, he's in the icu—"

"keep it under wraps, y/n." even with such a bright smile on her face, weems was able to sound borderline threatening.

the car came to a stop outside of nevermore. the second it was parked, you were already making your way out of the car and into the quad.

the entire quad was full of students' parents and family. you swore that you had never seen the quad so full of people from all over the world. parents, grandparents, siblings, even uncles and aunts all surrounded their kids as they all talked and caught each other up.

your wings ruffled gently under the confines of your leather jacket, still fairly weak. you didn't make your entrance grand, instead opting to stay near the the side of the quad and away from others as you observed them all.

a pang of envy hit your body when you watched everyone with their families. as much as you wanted to play off that you thought parent's weekend was cheesy, you wished that some of your family would make time to show up.

a part of you wished that your father would appear, but that was just the inner child in you talking. you had only ever seen him twice in your life; once when he pulled you out of your orphanage, and the second when he left an entire empty apartment to you. he paid the expenses, but he never visited.

"y/n?" enid's voice made you jump in surprise before you were practically tackled into a hug, her werewolf strength making you hit the wall gently.

"hey, hey; i'm strong but not as strong as i usually am," you managed a laugh, gently pulling enid's arms away from where your wings were hidden.

you didn't know why you were suddenly so embarrassed to show your wings now. maybe it was because it was a huge sign that you lost a fight. maybe it showed just how weak you really were; you didn't know. but feeling enid's hand brush against your wings from over the jacket made you want to hide your wings even more.

you used to be proud of them.

"why didn't you tell us that you were back?" enid asked, almost tearful as she held your shoulders. she looked so worried your original idea of keeping to yourself was hindered for just a second.

"i didn't want to make a scene." you managed a smile as wednesday appeared behind enid. her facade fell ever so slightly, her cold eyes softening as she looked at you.

"i did not doubt that you would fully recuperate in time for this horrible weekend. you have shown yourself to be quite a sadist," wednesday stated, glancing briefly at the other parents in the quad. she swallowed thickly before nodding her head once. "thank you for being there for eugene."

your eyebrows raised at her sudden sincerity. this was the first time you had ever seen her like this, and you nudged her gently as you stood between her and enid. "don't go soft on me, addams. we still have a monster to find."

the sound of weems clearing her throat in the mic made the three of you look up at her. her warm was as bright as ever as she addressed all the family in the quad. you didn't care enough to listen to her words as enid began to talk to you.

"the monster hadn't attacked anyone for the past week," enid said, "maybe you finally scared it off, y/n."

"maybe," you mumbled, "or maybe it's just regaining its strength to finish off the job."

"i realize most of you have heard about the unfortunate incident involving two of our students," weems said into the microphone, making you look up in shock.

she better not.

"but i'm happy to report that eugene is on the mend and is expected to make a full recovery, while y/n has already arrived back from the hospital," her arm stretched out towards where you stood with enid and wednesday.

oh, how you wished you could fly away from everyone's stares. you shifted uncomfortably at the smiles you received from strangers and classmates alike, the sudden spotlight fresh from you arrival from the hospital making you nothing short of embarrassed and annoyed.

"so let's try to focus on the positive and make this weekend the best parent's weekend yet!" weems' smile grew, and claps rippled through the crowd in agreement.

"on the mend? try in a coma," wednesday grumbled under her breath, making you nod and shove your hands into your pockets.

"i'm the reason he's in the hospital," you murmured, primarily to yourself. guilt stained your tone bitterly as you forced yourself to stop pondering about your lack of action.

"that is not your fault, okay?" enid said softly, her usually bright eyes darkening with concern. she turned to wednesday, "you stop beating yourself up over it, too."

"maybe the reason why the monster hasn't been seen is because of this weekend," wednesday said dryly, her expression only darkening at the entrance of her family.

you wouldn't lie, they all fit each other's aesthetic very well.

"i knew i should have worn my plague mask," wednesday practically seethed, already dreading the upcoming socializing she would have to do.

enid tsked, nodding over to her own family. her nose scrunched in slight embarrassment. "would you look at my family?" her mom and dad stood a few feet away from their rowdy boys, who were jumping around the picnic table wildly. "talk about toxic pack mentality," enid sighed, "i give my mom 30 seconds before her judge-y claws come out."

you and wednesday looked at enid with concern, who only let out a slow exhale before forcing a smile. "let's get this over with." she looked at you with a small tilt of her head. "are your sisters coming to parents weekend, y/n?"

"no," you responded curtly, backing away from your roommates. "i'll leave you both to it, though. good luck."

you watched on from the walls of the quad, your arms crossed over each other as you watched on from your brooding corner. everyone seemed happy enough to have their family around.

your eyes drifted up to the second level of the quad, and your eyes met familiar green ones again.

his face was unreadable as he looked at you. you sent him an awkward wave that quickly fell when you noticed bianca standing next to him. but she seemed equally as down as you were, so you awkwardly waved to her as well.

you watched them both talk, bianca obviously bothered by what xavier was saying, until she turned around to a woman wearing gold reptile clothing. she looked shocked, to see her, to say the least, almost like a deer in headlights. your eyes followed xavier as he left bianca with her mom, a sigh leaving your lips as you focused your attention to the families in front of you again.

the amount of family togetherness made you want to cry and throw up all at the same time.

you began to walk away from the quad, wordlessly moving past people like a ghost. you didn't want to stop and chat no more than you already had. you didn't have the energy to force yourself to be civil when you felt nothing but self blame, guilt, and anger for what had happened over the last week.

but most of all, as you walked out to the archery range and felt the wind blow gently against you, you felt grief. because you wanted nothing more than to feel that wind under your wings.

your hands were clenching and unclenching, your chest heaving as you desperately tried to calm yourself. you found yourself too deep in your thoughts to think straight, too guilty to talk to others who obviously cared about you, too angry for feeling so weak that you wanted to do nothing but destroy. you wanted to destroy that monster for leaving a 13 year old kid in the hospital, fighting for his life. you wanted to destroy the monster the same way he destroyed your wings.

you walked towards the rack of bows, hands working on their own as you grabbed them and one of the quivers, carelessly hoisting it over your back as you stood in front of an array of targets.

you loaded a bow in and pulled it back, aiming for a mere second before you let it fly. it hit the middle of the target with a thump, but you were already loading another into the bow. you let each arrow fly carelessly, so desperate for some kind of escape from your mind. from the memories of the mauling not even a full week ago, of you being carelessly thrown around while eugene screamed for help.

how pathetic was it, that you wanted to help eugene but couldn't even help yourself?

you never wanted that to happen to anyone else again. you were so close to experiencing the pain your sisters had told you about— the pain of being too attached only to lose them moments after.

you had to stay away.

"y/n."

another arrow in the middle, cutting through the last.

"y/n, stop."

you reached for another arrow, mindlessly loading it into the bow.

"are you even listening to me?" a hand grabbed your shoulder, and you immediately walked back and turned towards the person, the arrow pointed right at their heart.

xavier raised both of his hands in surrender, worry ghosting over his face as he looked at you in concern. "it's me," he breathed, eyes trailing down to the unwavering arrow. ever so gently, he took a step towards you and pushed the arrow aside so that it pointed away from him. "it's me," he repeated, green eyes boring into yours as you swallowed thickly.

you let the bow fall at your side, the arrow easily dropping to the ground.

"don't do that," you muttered, turning your eyes away from him first, to his surprise.

" 'm sorry," xavier couldn't help but say, the apology slipping past his lips before he could exchange it with a snarky comment. he exhaled slowly, taking a step towards you as you looked at the damage you had done to the archery target. "you shouldn't be training."

"why not?" you huffed, walking away from him to place the quiver and bow back.

"you know fully well why not," xavier said in exasperation, walking quickly after you. he knew you wouldn't stupid; you were just avoiding the idea that you simply weren't strong enough. "you need to be resting."

"you need to let me be."

"i'm not going to."

"and why is that?" you snapped, that familiar glare meeting his eyes. "you think that after that night suddenly our entire relationship has changed—"

"i held you while you were bleeding," xavier seethed, and you stepped towards him, stabbing an accusatory finger at him.

"you stopped me from getting to eugene."

xavier chuckled in disbelief, your words making him shake his head. he was sure that it was just the attack speaking; you were obviously still on edge over the whole thing, but he had to admit, to hear you be so mean hurt him. "do you know how much blood you lost?"

you opened your mouth to fire back, but xavier stopped you.

"it was everywhere, y/n. and your wings.." his eyes drifted to the leather jacket that covered you, your wings hidden under them. "your wings looked horrible."

your pained gaze left his eyes as you looked up at the sky, feeling that familiar pressure behind your eyes.

"thornhill had to cut them to bring you to the hospital," xavier continued, making your sadness slip away for a moment for it to be replaced with anger. but xavier saw it. "don't blame her for it, y/n."

"i feel like blaming everything right now," you said with a joyless laugh, "i feel like.. burning everything."

xavier looked at you, observing the way your turmoil was finally shining through the cracks of the walls you had built. "do you wanna go on a walk with me? you don't need to say anything— i know that you're definitely not in the mood for a conversation but.. i don't want you committing arson."

you couldn't help the small smile that tugged on your lips at that, xavier's eyes softening when he saw the genuine smile. his heart tugged in his chest when he looked at you; not out of sympathy, but out of something else unexplainable.

the both of you began to walk around the school grounds, the ambiance of nature being the only noise between the both of you. every time you approached the woods, xavier found himself moving to the side of where the woods were, walking along the border so that you didn't have to.

"i met your sister two days ago."

"you what?" you couldn't help but say, eyebrows raising. "they actually visited?"

there it was again, that tug in xavier's chest. "why are you so surprised?" he couldn't help but ask, but he continued anyway, "it was only one of them— eir," he listened to you sigh and murmur a small, 'of course it was,' before he proceeded, "and it was the first time she visited in that entire week."

"how are you so sure?"

"because wednesday, enid, and i visited you every day." xavier could feel your eyes on him. his cheeks burned red at the small confession, but he played it off, saying, "i got mad at her."

you swatted his arm in response, making xavier wince as he rubbed your mark. "stop interfering with my family matters," you scolded coldly, and he groaned at your words.

"fine, it'll be the first and last time, but that was the first time she ever visited. your father didn't even come."

"eir has always been the one that visited. she's never visited a lot but," you sighed, "she was always there. odin would never go." your tone was bitter as you kicked at a bunch of dry leaves on the ground.

"i understand." you looked at xavier curiously, and he took it as a sign to continue. "my dad told me in a text that he wouldn't make it to this year's parent's weekend," a forced, tight lipped smile appeared on his face, "he hasn't gone to all the others, so.. i don't really know what i expected."

you stayed quiet at that. you knew how that felt, to want a parent's presence and always be turned down. it was as though you were nothing but a burden to them. but silently, you weighed your options of opening up to xavier. you didn't want to get attached.

you wouldn't get attached.

"did eir talk to you?" you asked, changing the subject quickly. you didn't want to get into the nitty-gritty about your father when you barely knew him. he existed, you knew that much, but it was as though he was a figment of your imagination. like an imaginary friend that appeared only when they wanted to.

"she did," xavier nodded, looking ahead of him. it was a particularly cloudy day today, and the sun barely shone through all the thick clouds that hung in the air.

"about?"

"you." he listened to your groan, a fond smile gracing his face at the sound. "i think i learned more about you from her than i have from you."

"eir and her big mouth," you muttered under your breath. "well? what'd she say?"

"that you were the youngest of the ten," xavier began, "that you were always attracted to trouble—" he watched as you opened your mouth to protest, only for him to interrupt you, "don't even try and argue when you know it's right."

you shut your mouth and let him continue.

"and," the words ran around in his head as he chose them carefully, knowing that it would be a sensitive subject to bring up. but he pushed himself over the edge to say it. "that every home was war for you."

your jaw clenched, the immediate subject of your various home lives making you immediately close in on yourself. it was as though you could feel all of your walls strengthen at the comment, all to fight against xavier.

"you don't need to tell me more if you don't want to," xavier stated, and with that, the walls fell again.

"good."

you both continued your walk in silence. whether it was uncomfortable or comfortable, you didn't know, but you were silently thankful for it. you didn't feel particularly conversational.

but you found yourself being more curious about xavier. if anything, he was as guarded as you were— what a hypocrite. but maybe you were a hypocrite too.

"do you still think i'm the monster?"

you couldn't look him in the eye. but you know those green eyes of his were staring at you in hope that someone believed he was innocent. you didn't look him in the eye as you responded with a, "i don't know who it is."

xavier sighed, his shoulders falling at that. he didn't know how to convince you or wednesday that he was innocent— you were both far too stubborn to even hear him out. oftentimes, he heard wednesday's accusatory voice yell at him much like she did the night of you and eugene's attack.

"i'm sure you aren't fairing too well after the attack, either," you commented, changing the subject yet again. "how do you feel?"

"honestly?" xavier sighed heavily, "i can't get the feeling of your blood on my hands."

a spark of guilt ran through your body. "i'm sorry," you mumbled, the apology barely audible. but the wind carried it to xavier's ears, to which he could only shake his head in response.

"it isn't your fault," xavier said firmly, turning his head to look at you. but your head was focused on your shoes as though it was the most interesting thing in the world. he nudged your shoulder gently. "i mean it, y/n. besides— i've been using art to cope with all of it."

your eyebrows raised in curiosity. you guessed that his primary muse was the monster; you were right, but xavier knew that he had pages full of you and only you.

if anything, you had been his muse almost as much as the monster.

"can i see some of it?" xavier's skeptical look made your eyes widen, "not for evidence! gods, i just want to see."

you looked around xavier's dorm in interest as he shut the door behind you. he had kept rowan's side of the dorm just as he had left it; it seemed as though he was stopping himself from adding items to rowan's side.

there were two easels set up near his desk; one of them was covered by a sheet, while the other was the unfinished painting of the monster. your throat dried as you peered into its crimson eyes and its long claws; the same claws that hooked under your skin as though you were nothing but a piece of meat. your fists clenched and unclenched involuntarily— a small sign of your nervousness as you continued to stare at the painting.

but your trance was broken when xavier turned the canvas so that its back side was towards you. "this is how i cope, remember that," he told you, and you found yourself nodding. "that wasn't what i wanted you to see," xavier said, his cheeks burning red as he turned to the other easel. swiftly, he pulled the blanket off of the painting. "this was."

it was you.

the sketch he had done of you prior was now alive on the easel— literally. your wings were flapping behind you as you flied high in the sky. the armor you wore shone as the nearby moon hit it, and your helmet seemed to glint under the stars. your wingspan was huge, reaching from one side of the canvas to the other side. he paid so much attention to detail that you could see the familiar pattern of brown on your feathers you looked so powerful. so mighty.

but to see it in front of you after knowing what you've lost, you couldn't help but turn around immediately. "i have to go," you managed through the lump in your throat. you moved past xavier, his face falling as he reached out to hold your shoulder before you could leave, his hand brushing against the top of your wings over your jacket.

"wait—"

you immediately pulled your shoulder away as though he had burned you. you looked almost scared as you stared at him, your eyes misting over in tears.

gods, you really needed to get yourself together.

"i.. i appreciate the painting. i really do— but when i look at it," you exhaled sharply, unable to finish your sentence. you glanced at it, taking in how powerful you looked. how your wings were a symbol for many that everything would be okay. how you looked so strong. "it reminds me that..i don't look like that anymore."

xavier's brows were furrowed as he looked at you. your words hung heavy in the air, and you were almost too ashamed to look at him.

" 'm sorry," you laughed, looking up at the ceiling as you blinked your tears away. xavier walked closer to you as you did. "you're a creep, actually, for making paintings like that. i honestly expected it to be of wednes.." your words died in your throat when you felt his hands hold your face gently, pulling your head down to look at him.

xavier didn't say anything as he used his thumbs to wipe away your tears. he touched you, someone who was so accustomed to war, as though you were delicate. his green eyes studied you as you looked at him, your eyes drifting down to his barely parted lips.

and as he held your face between his hands, he kissed you. not in the way he had before. he kissed you as though he was telling you something that only you would understand. as though every slide of his lips against yours was another promise.

but you ignored those promises, because to you, promises would only be broken. because you didn't want to promise yourself to another if it meant that you could lose them in the end.

xavier pulled away from you, his forehead pressed against yours as he looked at your features. he was looking at you like you were his favorite painting. it was as though you had been sculpted by such a tender hand that part of him couldn't believe that you were truly here in front of him.

"i want you to make me feel better." the request fell out of your lips before you could catch it. it was barely audible, like a whisper in the wind, but xavier heard all of it.

xavier only nodded, and you both met in the middle again. the kiss, once so composed and gentle, became more passionate as you felt him under your touch. his hands held your face as he kissed you over and over, as though your taste alone was addicting. and to xavier, it was.

your hands ran through under his shirt as you found yourself on his bed yet again. you pulled it over his head before the back of his knees hit the edge of the bed, making him fall back. xavier quickly used his elbows to raise the upper half of his body to look at you. a frown tugged at his lips as he fully sat up, bringing you closer to him.

you sat on your knees on the space in front of him. your eyes were on his as his hands gently want to the zipper of your leather jacket. you gripped his wrist before he could pull it down, nervousness evident in your eyes. you took in a breath before you used your hand to guide his hand down to fully unzip your jacket.

his hands paused before he could fully pull it off of you. "may i?" xavier asked softly, waiting patiently for your response. when you nodded, he shook his head, murmuring, "i need you to say it. i want you to be sure."

"take off my jacket, xavier," you said, never pulling your eyes from his. your stare only fell when you felt your wings flutter out of the confines of the jacket; they were weak enough to not be as responsive as they usually were. xavier let out a slow exhale when his eyes trailed from your clipped wings to the three neatly-stitched scratches on your back, the memory still fresh in his mind.

"you're so beautiful," xavier breathed, his fingers feather light as he traced your tattoo.

if your fear for love didn't burn so strongly, then maybe you would've found yourself seeing him in a different light.

but you found yourself yearning for something else entirely.

xavier's lips met yours again as you pushed him so that his upper body was propped up against the headboard. you straddled him, his eyes looking up at you innocently. you throw your shirt over your head before leaning down to kiss him again. you rocked your hips against his, reveling in the low moan that he let out into your mouth. you felt him through his jeans, distracting him from kissing you properly as another groan left his mouth.

you lips left his, leaving a single line of saliva between you. your mouth met his neck, leaving open mouthed kisses along his skin that made him whine for more. your hand found its home at the base of his neck, squeezing ever so lightly.

"i thought i was supposed to be taking care of you," xavier said with a breathless laugh that quickly turned into a groan when he felt you press down against him again.

"you are," you mumbled, pulling at his pants.

xavier helped you take his pants off along with yours, both of you in your underwear as you kissed him again. he could feel how wet you were with every rock of your hips against his cock.

"i want you," you whispered against his mouth. you felt his hands trail down your body, mapping every inch of you under his fingertips. his fingers hooked under your underwear, stretching the elastic before letting it slap against your skin. he pulled it to the side, allowing his fingers to rub your wetness around, your small moan being swallowed by his mouth.

xavier hummed against your lips, pulling away for a second to whisper, "you have me."

another empty promise.

your eyes darkened at that. you pulled his cock out of his underwear, teasing his tip along your pussy to gather up its wetness. xavier's eyes were half lidded as he looked up at you, cheeks flushed as he bucked his hips up desperately. "patient," you scolded, before you sank fully onto his cock. the both of you gasped at the feeling, your hands on his chest as you allowed yourself to get used to his size. you shifted slowly, a low moan leaving his lips as his head fell back.

steadily, you moved up and down his dick, reveling in the feeling of being so fucking full. but you couldn't look away from him as you worked up and down; how his hands held your waist to guide you, how your body moved so fluidly against his, how his long hair framed his face so perfectly. his rosy lips were parted, letting out a whine when you slid down slowly, the pace almost unbearable but so so good.

"pretty boy," you said, your hips moving back and forth. you watched a sinful smile appear on his face at that. the glow from the sex only made him so much more beautiful under your gaze, as though he was the angel and not you. and how lewd was he to smile so sinfully as you fucked him. "so fucking pretty."

"y/n, move faster," xavier said, eyes pleading as he looked up at you. he was taking in every part of you; your heaving chest, the sweat that was misted along your skin, the way you looked at him. he was so addicted to you that it almost felt as though he felt something.

your hips followed his request, his eyes rolling back again when you began to ride him faster. your moans only spurred him to buck his hips up in time with you, the added pressure nothing short of delicious as you felt him hit that spot in you that made you see stars. "xavier," you moaned, and he fucked you harder.

"say my name again," xavier murmured, leaning forward to kiss your neck feverishly. you moaned his name again, feeling him leave marks in his wake. like water color, he painted you purple as you moved like water under his fingertips. so fluidly, your hips moved together, the friction borderline delicious as you chased your high.

the knot in your stomach was almost too much to bear, your moans raising in volume as you felt xavier bite down on your shoulder, hiding a particularly loud groan that threatened to leave him. "so beautiful," you heard him mumble, too high off of sex to make a comprehensible sentence. "gon' cum jus' for you," he continued, hands rubbing your hips and holding you close.

your head flew back as you finally came, your eyes rolling back as the pleasure surged through you. your hips continued to move as xavier's hands moved you back and forth, letting you ride him through your orgasm. xavier's lewd noises were muffled in your neck as he came right after you, spilling his cum into you and feeling it leak down.

ever so slowly, he raised you off of him, and moved you to lay down next to him. he peppered light kisses over the hickeys what decorated your skin, his fingers moving some of your hair out of the way as he allowed you to bury your head into his pillow. you looked at him, eyes unreadable as you left a lingering kiss at the corner of his lips.

and with that, you turned away from him to sleep.

by the time you woke, you felt his skin against yours. your hand had found itself holding onto his wrist gently as his arm stayed draped over your body. like a drum, his pulse thumped against the pads of your fingertips, strong and steady. you felt his soft breathing brush against the nape of your neck as he slept soundly.

you gently pushed his arm off of you, letting it fall behind you as you sat up at the edge of his bed. you looked up at the moon that shone through his window, your heart aching at the sight of it.

how you wished to fly close to the moon again.

your eyes floated over to the little details in xavier's room. the photos of him, rowan, and ajax, all smiling at the camera. an photo of a younger and enid, with enid on his back. doodles that ranges from cartoonish to realistic, all pinned up messily above his desk.

a page from his sketchbook of wednesday, playing her cello. now of all the pieces of art he had on the wall, he seemed to have paid attention to her's the most.

"why aren't you resting?" his soft voice brought you away form your thoughts, grounding you to the earth. he shifted behind you, the bed moving in his wake as he propped his head up on his arm. you were looking away from him, oblivious to the pained way he was looking at your clipped wings. the cut had already fully healed thanks to your godly blood, but the scars from the monster remained on your back.

"i have to go," you managed to say, turning back at him. xavier looked so drowsy, his eyes slowly blinking as he struggled to stay awake, but his green irises were alert as ever. your eyes followed each mark you had left on his skin like a constellation that only you knew of, the blooming purple nothing short of sinful.

"this means nothing, right?" his question was asked before he could stop it. it had been on his mind even before he had closed his eyes. he had gotten an intense feeling of deja vu as he asked you the question, knowing fully well that you had said something similar when you first slept together.

"right," you murmured in response. it was as though you were both signing a strict agreement that day. no strings. no feelings. only empty promises.

"i don't understand why i'm being invited."

"because it's a girl's night, silly!" enid smiled brightly, fixiing the snood she made for you over your head. it was an off white color; one that matched your color palette (enid's words, not yours). "and no one's seen you out of the dorm for a week unless it's for class. everyone's been worried."

for most of the week, you had kept to yourself. you didn't have the full energy to converse with others, and you hadn't been speaking to anyone for no longer than a few minutes; even xavier. but you needed time to recuperate before devoting your time to killing some monster and solving a murder.

your wings were strong enough to fully disappear into your back now. but it had been far too long since anyone had seen any sight of them. you guessed that you were forcing yourself to get used to the feeling of them being in your back forever; if you didn't have all your wings, then you might as well not have them at all.

wednesday had caught you up on what had happened during your week of rest and relaxation, telling you all about garrett gates and crackstone. in the same way she caught you up, you caught her up on what happened the night of the attack.

"i didn't get to see much before the explosion. i covered eugene with my wings because i was scared debris would fly at us."

wednesday looked down at the taxidermy kit her parents had given her. her surprise party was the night prior, and you had to say that you did a pretty good job at acting unsuspicious (though, you and enid kept sending each other excited looks all night).

enid, because she believed every birthday should be celebrated. you, because you couldn't wait to see how miserable wednesday would look when given a party.

but it was interrupted by a vision; one that wednesday had told you about moments prior.

"but someone definitely knew that we had gone in there with eugene earlier. whoever it was, they knew about the monster and was either covering for them or was covering their own tracks because they were the monster," you twirled a knife in your hands absentmindedly. fidgeting helped you think. "i think that we shouldn't rule out the possibility of there being an accomplice, but i'm gonna be honest— with weems covering for rowan's murder," your words turned bitter as you spoke about weems. the anger you had towards her for covering up a murder and not allowing rowan's friends to properly grieve still ran heavily through you. "i wouldn't be surprised if she knew something about the monster."

"besides, aren't you excited that it was wednesday's idea? i mean, she rarely does this— i guess it's because it's her birthday today." the werewolf was practically jumping on the ceiling from excitement, her hands moving passionately with her words as she walked away from you to talk to wednesday.

"wednesday's idea?" you echoed, your brows furrowing at the thought of wednesday addams planning a girl's night. you walked to your closet and grabbed your holster for your dagger.

just in case.

you knew you were smart enough to bring it, because you found yourself stopping as you opened the car to what you believed was your uber driver, only to see tyler staring at you in disbelief. "since when were you an uber driver?" you asked with furrowed brows, climbing into the car and shutting the door behind you.

"since never?" tyler responded, equally as confused as you as his eyes darted between you and enid in the backseat and wednesday sitting coldly in the passenger's seat.

"wait— you're our uber driver?" enid asked confusedly, turning to wednesday for answers.

"why do you keep asking that— i thought we were going on a date." tyler too looked at wednesday for answers.

"we thought it was a girls' night out!" enid explained, her look of disbelief slowly turning into one of realization. there was no girls' night out.

"there's been a change of plans," wednesday said curtly, not even looking at them.

"what's with the weird matching hoodie scarf things?" tyler asked, making you send him a warning glare.

"don't ask," you stated, your tone enough to make him shut up.

the gates tyler drove up to were overgrown and much too rusty; it practically screamed tetanus. fog obstructed your view of what was beyond the gate, as did the overgrown plants. you found yourself standing right at the front of the gate, looking up at the top of it.

if you had your wings, you could've just flown over.

"this isn't what i signed up for," tyler protested as wednesday began to pick the lock, his eyes nothing short of concerned as he only watched her pick the lock easily.

"ditto!" enid cried out, obviously terrified, "and i bet y/n didn't sign up for this either she's literally healing from getting attacked!"

"i'm healed," you corrected, your lips tugging into a frown as you turned to wednesday. "you should've just asked us to come along instead of getting their hopes up," you muttered to her, your tone only mildly annoyed.

"you knew that if i was planning something for my birthday, i wouldn't celebrate it with a dinner or a surprise party," wednesday said pointedly, not even fazed by tyler and enid's complaints, " if you didn't, then you wouldn't have packed your dagger. i want to do this."

"y/n's right—" tyler said with a nod, "you should've just asked us, not tricked us."

"if you want to go, you can." wednesday gave them a look before pullling out a flashlight. "i'm going to check out the garage."

the entire mansion was overgrown with ivy and vines, doing little to calm the hard beating of your heart. it looked as though there hadn't been anyone in and out of the area in years; which made sense, since supposedly all the gates family members either left or died.

"it's, uh, nice to see you're all better."

you turned to tyler, who was walking behind you. his flashlight was in his hands, illuminating the small smile on his face. but that smile quickly faltered when he saw the skepticism on your features. "wednesday told me about the wings," he added in explanation, watching as your skeptic look turned to a stone cold one. it was as though the mention of your wings left you numb once again. but tyler's eyes were still on you, observing you quietly.

"right. thanks."

the door rattled as wednesday struggled against it. she frustratedly tried to pull one last time, only to huff angrily when it refused to budge.

"let me try," enid said, walking closer and putting her flashlight in her pocket. with one strong pull, the door flew open, making enid's lips tilt upwards into a smile. but the look of shock wednesday gave her made her chuckle embarrassedly. "werewolf thing."

you reached for a nearby light switch as you entered. eerily, the light began to flicker as it illuminated the garage, focusing on a car that was parked right under it. it was covered by a sheet.

the the most confusing thing that you could see about it was that it looked spotless. even the cover looked as though it was recently used— not like the rest of the house.

wednesday pulled the cover swiftly, revealing a blue cadillac. "this is the car that ran the cadillac over," she breathed, and enid whimpered out of fear.

"this just took a horribly dark turn," the blonde said worriedly, her hand pointing towards tyler as she continued, "we need to call tyler's dad right freaking now."

"why?' wednesday asked, turning to enid, "so he an take me back to nevermore and get me expelled? it's not gonna happen." the pig tailed girl walked to the door that led into the house without another look.

"stay close," you told enid as you walked after wednesday, enid nodding as she followed behind you.

"how can she be so stubborn? i mean, all we wanted was a girls' night out!" enid's voice raised an octave due to her fear, her arm coming up to hook under your's.

the door creaked open as you entered it with enid close in tow. her flashlight moved around the abandoned hallway, the dust creating a layer of gray everywhere you looked. it was as though the house was left to rot and decay on its own. there were still photos of the gates hung up on the walls, all smiling at the camera. you let your hand run along the walls that peeled like a snake.

you found yourself in an office of sorts, decorated with an old t.v, a desk, a sofa, and a chair. the chandelier that one illuminated the room had fallen onto the desk. but what truly caught your eye was the painting of the gates. they were all positioned professionally and painted with a delicate hand; so delicate, that it seemed as though their eyes were following your every step. your eyes narrowed as enid and wednesday's flashlight focused on garret gates, who stood proudly next to his mother in front of a background of flowers.

"the tacky painting is fitting for a bunch of outcast haters," you murmured to enid, but primarily to yourself as you observed them all.

you followed wednesday as she walked into the library. cobwebs upon cobwebs covered the table like a sheet, creating multiple layers with the dust. antique items of all sorts were toppled over and rendered lifeless in what you would have considered a beautiful room. you looked at the titles of all the books, your eyes trailing up to follow wednesday's flashlight. it was shining directly on an area that had no dust and no cobwebs; the top of a mahogany wall design right between the books.

wednesday reached up and pressed on it, and the mechanisms from within the door began to click and move. one of the library shelves pressed in and moved to the side, revealing a shrine for no one other than joseph crackstone. at the sides, someone had written 'blood will rain when i rise,' in red marker; you knew that it wasn't real blood. you looked closer, frowning at the sight of multiple candles that littered the small shelf below the pilgrim's painting.

"you'd think that of all the things they'd worship, they'd worship someone that isn't a colonizer," you said with a judgmental look. but to say that you were surprised that a family who hated anyone remotely different would idolize a colonizer would be a lie.

"who doesn't have a spooky built-in alter in their family library?" enid managed out with a hesitant smile.

"our is in the living room. more seating for year-long dia de los muertos," wednesday mumbled, watching as you reached forward to press a candle wick between your fingers. you pressed another wick between your fingers. your face dropped at the heat you felt from both.

"they're still warm," you told the others, hearing enid's uncomfortable whimper.

"tyler, you search the ground floor. enid, y/n, and i will search upstairs," wednesday ordered, glaring at tyler when he looked at her skeptically. "what?"

"why can't y/n stay on the ground floor?"

"scared?" you couldn't help but ask, rolling your eyes as you crossed your arms over your chest.

"she is the second person who knows the most about what is going on," wednesday said curtly, looking at tyler with narrowed eyes, "or do you need her protection?"

tyler raised his hands in surrender. "fine! jus' seems unfair, that's all."

wednesday only huffed before turning around, already making her way to the stairs.

"sad, isn't it?" you said sarcastically, moving to follow wednesday and enid as they began to walk back down the hall. you were careful not too make too much noise as you walked up the stairs, as you could hear some of the steps groan under your feet.

you walked behind wednesday and enid, looking up the walls and further up ahead to assure your temporary safety. wednesdsay came to a stop at the top of the steps, turning to the both of you. "you go left, enid and i go right."

"do you seriously want to split up? here?" enid asked frantically, her voice falling to a harsh whisper as she said, "that is literally how every best friend dies in a horror movie."

"i'll be fine. don't worry about me." you briskly turned around to search the left side of the upper floor, your hand floating over the holster of your dagger as you peeked into every room. but it seemed as though every room was rotten and decaying; bed frames were slanted off of the walls, rooms were left to the rats and spiders, and the strong smell of asbestos wafted all throughout the house.

but the longer you walkers, the more you felt as though something was wrong. something was horribly off in the house, and it wasn't the evident racism against outcasts or the fact that they had a shrine.

you peeked into the last room down the hall, your face falling at the sudden neatness of it all. it was as if every room was hit by a tornado except for this one, leaving it spotless. the pink sheets of the bed seemed washed, as did the rug that sat on the ground. not a speck of dust remained on any of the furniture, showing off how well it had been taken care of. on the side table of the bed sat a vase full of pastel pink roses.

"guys!" you called behind your shoulder, reaching out a hand to touch the roses gently. they were still fresh; not a single sign of death.

wednesday and enid ran in, their faces equally as shocked as yours as they began to poke around. enid went up next to you, gazing at the roses in thought. "these are really new," she commented, making you nod as you turned to everything else in the room.

"most of the things in here have been taken care of. even the sheets and the rug have been washed." you ran your hand down the sheets of the bed, the fabric soft under your touch.

"this is laurel gates' room," wednesday said, her eyes set on a music box. you and enid approached her, peering over her shoulders as she shone her flashlight on the embossed 'l.g.' on the outside of the box. a ballerina stood proudly inside of the open music box for all to see.

"looked like somebody moved back into their old room," enid said, her face now in what seemed like a permanent frown.

"not possible— she died 25 years ago. drowned overseas."

you placed your hand on the table where the music box sat, silently catching the attention of your roommates. you raised a finger to your lips, your hairs standing up straight as the sound of objects clattering reached all of your ears. "we have to go," you said firmly, unsheathing your dagger as you walked quickly to the doorway, peeking in both sides before motioning for them to follow.

wednesday nodded, grabbing the ballerina box as she took enid's hand and dragged her along to follow you. enid's complaint of, "this is officially the worst girls' night ever!" didn't distract you from finding a way out of the house.

"guys! get out! it's here!" tyler's panicked yell was muffled by the floors of the house. the three of you made a beeline for the stairs, fully ready to go down, until the familiar sound of claws slashing skin made you stop the other two.

the sight of the monster's shadow made your blood run cold. its claws were as sharp as you remembered it, and you found yourself gripping your dagger as hard as ever as you felt the feeling of being pierced through your back like a meat in a freezer. those long nails, sharped than daggers, were in your back only a week and a half prior.

they were the same claws that brought eugene into a coma.

and you almost found yourself giving into the impulse of revenge. the impulse that wanted you to dig your dagger into the monster just as it did to you, to give it a slow death that would allow you to watch the life die in its eyes. you wanted to tear it apart limb from limb just like it had torn apart its victims. you wanted it to experience the same pain they all felt.

but you didn't.

you pushed the dagger back into its holster. "go!" you told the others, pushing them back up the steps as you allowed yourself to turn your back to the monster, feeling the steps rattle with its every step.

"the dumbwaiter!" wednesday said, already running towards it and pushing enid inside.

it was right behind you. you could feel it walking closer and closer as you pushed wednesday into the tight space before following quickly behind her. you looked at the monster dead in its red eyes before you shut the dumbwaiter door, pushing the others back as you allowed yourself to shield them.

"oh my god, oh my god," enid whispered frantically, her hands shaky as she turned her flashlight off. you raised a finger to your lips again, your eyes wide as you looked at enid and wednesday.

they weren'y hurt. that was good.

wednesday swallowed thickly, her eyes set on the door before the dumbwaiter rattled. outside, the monster roared in anger as it tried to get to the three of you, its arms seemingly shaking the entire dumbwaiter as it only became more furious by the second. wednesday reached forward, her snood in hand as she began wrapping her snood around the two handles of the dumbwaiter to keep it shut.

"no, not your snood!" enid said desperately, her eyes pleading as she tried to stop wednesday from using the scarf she had worked so hard on.

"stop," wednesday said, her eyes stirring with something unreadable as she continued to use it to keep the handles shut. you looked at enid, who seemed close to tears, and murmured a small, 'don't worry,' that honestly didn't do as much as you hoped it would.

the sound of screeching metal reached your ears, and you turned around, your throat running dry when your eyes met bulging red ones. the monster had scratched the dumbwaiter with its three claws, allowing it to look right at the three of you. like a predator stalking its prey, it readied itself to reach inside to grab you until—

the rope snapped, sending the three of you plummeting down. enid's screams and the sound of rushing wind were all you heard before the dumbwaiter reached the basement with a loud crash, sending the three of you flying out of it.

you groaned as you landed on your back, the stinging pain pain from the healing scratches still making you wince. you prayed to the gods that the wounds didn't open up again.

you stood up, turning to enid and helping her up easily. the sound of wednesday pulling the light open made you look towards it, your heart falling at what you saw on the shelves. jars of human remains, from a foot to half a face, were neatly preserved and on display for you to see. you could feel the pain radiating off of them as you took a step closer, your face only showing your disbelief. "these body parts were taken from the monster's victims."

how could their family and friends grieve if they didn't have every part of their family member to bury as they wished?

dust fell on you with every step the monster took, the old wood practically bending under its weight as it walked slowly to where the basement door was. you rushed the two girls towards a nearby window, helping push enid up and through before pushing wednesday up.

"y/n, come on!" wednesday yelled, the monster right behind you as you forced yourself to jump up to the window, their hands grabbing you and pulling you through.

you let out a groan when you felt those familiar claws only swipe at your leg right before you were fully out of the basement. you laid on your back on the ground, your eyes set on the starless sky as you felt the pain radiate from your calf and your back. but quickly you forced yourself up, hiding your new wound with your pant leg.

"you okay?" you heard wednesday ask enid, only for her to scoff and walk away, saying 'since when do you care?' over her back.

you and enid ran down the woods, her run slowing to a jog when she saw that wednesday wasn't following her. "what the hell are you doing?!" she yelled; you had never seen her more stressed. but she had every right to be.

"we have to go back for tyler!" wednesday yelled behind her back, running quickly to the side of the house.

"we have to go with her," you told enid, who only stubbornly shook her head as she pointed in wednesday's direction.

"no! she put all of us in trouble, y/n—"

"you and i both know that you care too much about her to leave her with someone who's wounded," you hissed, making the werewolf shut her mouth immediately. "there's no place for grudges during a time like this." your words hung in the air for a few seconds, your eyes studying the discontented look on enid's face before she reluctantly nodded in agreement.

"fine."

"great." you led her back to where wednesday ran, your hand holding your dagger warily as you followed wednesday's general direction. you found wednesday knelt down next to tyler, who had three deep scratched on his chest.

she turned to enid, handing her her flashlight. "enid, hold this," she said, her voice panicked as she knelt back down to tyler. enid reluctantly held it up for her, her foot tapping impatiently on the ground.

"that thing is still inside!" enid cried, head whipping between tyler's wounded form and the area around them.

you stood by as a guard, your focus entirely on the woods and the possible areas the monster could attack. your hand held your dagger so tight that your knuckles paled, the handle's groove leaving indents on your skin. you could feel blood seep down your calf from your wound, but you refused to acknowledge it, too focused on protecting the others to even care about your own health. their panicked voices faded out into the background when you heard the crunch of nearby leaves.

your head turned quickly to the side, your dagger ready to be thrown before your muscles relaxed at the sight of xavier.

"xavier?" you asked in confusion, his face falling when he saw you.

he turned his head to the side, seeing tyler bleeding profusely from the scratched. xavier ignored wednesday's look of shock and suspicion as he tugged his scarf off of his neck, handing it to tyler. "here. take this."

tyler grunted as wednesday applied pressure to his wound, her face showing subtle signs of worry and panic as she cared for him. but she looked back at xavier in shock, her head already putting the pieces together and coming up with a conclusion for his sudden appearance.

you sat at the table next to enid and xavier, your eyes set on your fidgeting fingers as wednesday patched tyler up.

you hadn't said a word since the attack at the house, your body far too tired and your mind too spent to actually come up with meaningful words to say. you felt nothing but pain as you massaged your hands over and over; pain from the body parts you had found in the house, pain from your back hitting the ground after a week of being out of the hospital, and pain from the wound you were hiding from everyone. you were sure that your socks were now stained crimson with how the blood had seeped down, but no one had noticed that you were wounded, as your pants were black.

"thanks doc," tyler said with a weak yet lighthearted smile as wednesday placed another bandage between his scratches.

you peeked up to look at xavier after the comment. you were met with the face of jealousy and envy. clenched jaw, a subtle eye roll, a frown tugging at his lips.

he cared about her so much. it brought a small pained spark in your heart.

you nudged him from under the table with your wounded leg, ignoring the pain that shot up your calf at the action. xavier looked at you with furrowed brows, and you only mouthed, "stop being jealous."

xavier huffed at that, only turning back to look at wednesday. to say that he wasn't sure what you meant would be an understatement; he knew fully well what you meant. he liked wednesday. he wanted to tell her how he felt, but she cared so much for tyler.

of course, to you, xavier's answer seemed simple; just tell her about his feelings. but xavier was never good at words, and he was even worse at figuring out his emotions. maybe that was why he found himself sleeping with you again and again; he didn't have to deal with them if it was with you.

feeling a romantic connection with you was different from worry, in his eyes. because he found himself looking at you, fidgeting so strongly with your fingers, heavy eye bags under your eyes, the usual healthy glow of your skin now gone and replaced with something duller, and he felt nothing but worry.

now, it was his turn to nudge you. "you're quieter than usual."

"am i usually loud?"

"loud and annoying, yeah," xavier said, making you roll your eyes. you leaned back in your chair, placing your clasped hands on your chest.

"what is it?" you asked him, your voice dry as you looked at him expectedly. even your eyes didn't have the same spark in them.

"are you okay?" xavier asked, the question no bigger thna a whisper. he was looking at you with furrowed brows, his eyes tracing over your form as though he was checking for any sign of a wound.

"'m fine," you only managed out, letting out a heavy exhale through your nose. you turned your head away from him, moving your legs slightly.

but as xavier looked you over for injuries, his landed on the sock under your loose black pants. they rode up slightly as you moved— that was why you were able to get away with hiding the scratch, as the bottom of your pants had ridden up slightly while you were getting away —but your socks were white. from where xavier sat, he could see that the white cloth had been stained crimson with your blood.

he stood up abruptly. "tyler," he forced out through gritted teeth, his eyes lingering on how wednesday's hands pressed the bandages down for a second before focusing on the guy, "where's your bathroom?"

"that hallway, to the left," tyler responded, offering a small yet kind smile that xavier didn't return.

"c'mon, y/n." xavier stood next to you, offering a hand to your seated form. you looked at it with a skeptical look before looking up at xavier.

"excuse you?"

"we need to talk, y/n." xavier lied, his lie believable enough to make you groan and take his hand to stand up. he saw you wince ever so slightly when you put your weight on your wounded leg, but you played it off.

you pulled your hand away from him as you followed him into the bathroom. "what is it?" you asked confusedly as he pulled you in, shutting the door and locking it behind you.

xavier didn't respond as he set the toilet seat down to close it. "sit there," he told you, moving past you to rummage through the galpin's bathroom drawers.

you scoffed at his order, crossing your arms over your chest. "not until you tell me what was so important that you had to drag us away from them."

xavier didn't respond, pulling out a gauze pad, petroleum jelly, and a wrap around bandage. he bent down to look under their sink for clean cloths.

"gods, hello? are you even listening to me?" you asked irritatedly, your tone making xavier stand up straight and look at you.

"why didn't you tell them that you were hurt?" your look of irritation fell, confirming xavier's hunch as he sighed, shaking his head to himself. he didn't say anything as he organized the items on the floor of the bathroom, his throat moving as he swallowed. "i saw your sock when you moved. you're bleeding."

you didn't speak as you reluctantly sat on the toilet seat, relief spreading through your body at the lack of weight on your leg. you watched as he knelt down to sit on the floor in front of you, a clean cloth in his hand. he applied pressure to your wound, hearing you hiss at the feeling. "well?" he asked, looking up at you. "why didn't you?"

you clenched your jaw, wanting so deeply to avoid his gaze, but his green eyes were searching your face for some kind of answer. "it wasn't important. just a scratch."

"tyler got a scratch too."

"why are you bringing him up? you literally hate the guy."

"and how do you know that?" xavier challenged, making you scoff.

"i see the way you look at wednesday. how you want her to look at you with the same look she gives tyler," you said, sighing as you continued, "how you want her to care for you the same way she was caring for tyler. it's nice— slightly sad —but nice because all of your problems could be fixed if you just told her how you feel."

xavier looked up at you at that. his eyes were clouded with something you couldn't read, his small murmur of, "i don't think that'll work," making you groan in frustration.

"seriously, xavier. just tell her—"

"stop changing the subject, y/n." xavier's voice wasn't firm at all. he didn't even seem irritated with you as he continued to apply pressure to your calf. his voice was soft as he addressed you, only full of worry as he continued to treat you. "why didn't you tell anyone?"

you swallowed thickly. "i didn't want anyone to help me."

xavier didn't say anything. he stood up, exchanging the bloodied cloth with a clean one. he ran it under the water of the sink before sitting back down in front of you and your leg. he gently cleaned it with the wet cloth, choosing his words carefully before he asked, "why?"

your hands clenched and unclenched, showing your obvious nervousness before you replied. "because it makes me feel weak. weaker than i already am."

you expected him to laugh. to tease you for being so sensitive about meaningless acts of service. to poke at you for complaining about being weak when there were other pressing matters to worry about.

but xavier only hummed in response. he grabbed the petroleum jelly as he set the wet cloth down. he waited for a minute for your leg to air dry, taking the moment of silence to speak.

"i'll patch you up quietly, then. whenever you want me to."

he wasn't sure if there was something hidden behind that small promise of his. xavier's eyes pulled away from you as he put petroleum jelly on your wound, his touch so gentle as he spread the ointment. he feared that too much pressure you make you wince again; he didn't want you to worry about that.

but as he said that comment, that small reassuring quote that would have meant nothing if xavier wasn't an overthinker, he wasn't sure what he was promising. the thing is, xavier did overthink. he folded his thoughts over and over a lot in his head, to the point where art was his way of dealing with it all.

that was why a part of him knew that there was a hidden meaning behind that statement that even he couldn't figure out. as he sat on the floor of the bathroom, patching up your leg so tenderly, the words simply felt like more than what it was. more than those two sentences.

and while you never wanted to hold onto a promise, you could only nod in response.

ACT VI

#AUTHORSNOTE— i feel like this is the longest part i've ever done but oh well! i hope you all enjoyed it and thank you sm for all the support lately it makes me wanna write even more xx

#TAGLIST (usernames that aren't underlined are unable to be tagged) — @gamorxa @rayliz793 @cali-888 @targaryensswp @hopefulfuturenovelauthor @just-amess @maystecc @cmac-writes @ahnneyong @importantpuppyshark @mannstarkey @alienm0vie @carinacassiopeiae @simonsbluee @g3org1al33 @killmewithafanfic @nattheartless13 @astrynyx @idontknowwhattodo35 @addisonnie @wxnderingthoughts @r1dd1kulus @smol-book-nerd @555stargirl555 @wonderlandco @siriuslysmoking @skye231 @boomitsallie1 @southernraven @buckleylips @yunoguns @theprettytragic @levylovegood @slut4fictionalcharacters28 @archernotfound @trixiemills @sucker4angstt @charliedaltonsteponme @wittle-bunnyboo @rowanlaslowsgf @importantpuppyshark @blehhhhdhdhbs @parkersmyth @holachicos @nanamin-pointo @chicken-taco-burrito @manofworm @sincerest-one @lp223344 @alexayoonlee @queer-coded @whore-for-eddie

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worshipme · 3 months ago

Text

and i miss my lover, man || a self-para penned by sora for mayhemhq’s HOOK

“hey rachel, it’s nice to see you again.” he greets the woman with a hug that lingers for longer than a moment. his name rolls off her tongue and once upon a time it had been his favorite thing to hear in the world.

when she graduated and returned home from university, tyler was still the first person she texted even if they hadn’t talked in the past four years. seeing her contact appear on his lock screen was enough for him to stop everything he was doing and reply.

ever since that text, they had periodically been meeting up with each other. hanging out like friends do, and seriously hanging out like friends do. never alone, always with their old group of friends from high school. catching each other up on new updates in life and legally drinking together. but tyler and rachel weren’t ever friends. they were lovers longer than they were friends. their relationship was an instant attraction that quickly turned into tyler trying to make the quiet girl who he caught staring at him in the middle of math blush. the real catalyst was when their assigned seats were right next to each other with the hopes of tyler’s rambunctious self would calm down if he was seated right at the front next to the quiet smart girl.

spoiler: it did.

tucked in his backpack he brought with him is the little box of every post-it note and crumbled up piece of paper that she had ever passed to him from that first day in math class that he sent her one with a simple question of him asking for the answer on a test. there’s a few other things in there - various pictures and different bracelets. the box held every little thing he had kept from their relationship. he can see a similar box tucked under her own arm that he can only assume is his side of their conversations and other things she had kept.

he offers up his arm for her to take, but like she always does, she shakes her head and begins to lead the way down to their spot in the creek. tyler walks beside her. it’s been years since he’s been here, and he knows it’s the same for her. it felt wrong to visit this little part of the creek without the other, but now that they’re here, they can’t help but sit down and talk about the old days.

but when the conversation begins to die out and he’s left with the bitter-sweet beating of his heart in his chest, he knows its time. “thank you for doing this with me.” he says, and his voice is just shy of a whisper.

“i need this too.” comes her reply.

“i feel like we’re at a funeral.”

“it kind of is, if you think about it. we’re both finally letting go of our relationship.”

“i don’t know why i held on to it for so long. i don’t have feelings for you anymore, but…”

“it’s all we knew. we spent our entire adolescence together, and we’re both the sentimental type. talk about a double homicide.”

“yeah, i guess that’s why… can you stop looking at me like that? it makes me sad.”

“why does this feel like another breakup?”

“i’m initiating this one, though. you got the first one.”

“fuck you.”

“one last time?”

she punches his shoulder and he can’t help but laugh. she joins in.

they start to collect nearby rocks and arrange it in a small circle. they continue to talk to fill the silence, and its then that she asks the question he’s been hoping to avoid. “so what happened with mariah? unless that’s still a fresh wound, i know it was only recently that the two of you split.” it makes him pause and look at her with an awkward smile on his face.

“i wasn’t ready to let you go. so while i had feelings for mariah, i was still entertaining the thought of ‘what if rach and i fall in love again’ in my head. i couldn’t do that to her. not be fully committed and all that. that’s just not me. and then when she ended things with me i just… i realized i needed to let you go. that this is why i can’t see myself dating someone else because i keep thinking about you.”

“…. me too….”

“i know. i’m not the only one with stuff to burn.”

there’s a silence that follows that. they begin to dump the contents of their boxes into the center of the rocks, and like some sort of twisted storybook - tyler immediately recognizes the first photo they took and printed out together as a couple that lays on the very top. they were just kids back then, and the smiles on their faces practically screamed out ‘this is my person!’

“i loved you.” it doesn’t matter who says it first, because the other is quick to reply, “i loved you, too.”

a match is tossed into the pile and the world begins to burn.

#༶•┈┈⛧┈♛ i write my own reality —————————— self para

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chaotic-constellations · 1 year ago

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sometimes romeo wandered about the boys past and if he'd ever go back if given a clean slate? it was ironic but it was clear the other was more than satisfied within his current lifestyle. yes, the infamous play changed the course of his entire future but it brought the man into his orbit and he couldn't be more thankful for their connection. still yet - romeo could remember looking at old pictures of the handsome jock and wonder what he truly was like back then only to be reminded that his current state was more than perfect.

when their friends thought that he two of them wouldn't work out, they each proved them wrong and quickly corrected their discourse. they had their promise rings, they had their inescapable love for each other, and their trust burned bright like a thousand suns. no other couple dared to have such power feelings and that was part of the reason he was never jealous when tyler hooked up with other men and women. this ass at home is what he ended up coming back to at the end of the day and those feelings were shared mutually.

"of course i'll always take care of you..." he whispered softly, as he kissed the man's inner thigh as closed his eyes and took in the man's warmth. already his own cock was throbbing and slowly he allowed the other to continue speaking. "are you planning on being that quick with me?" he teased as the other mentioned him picking out the others clothes. taking hold of the boys hard cock, romeo slowly stroked his massive dick and stared lustfully up at his partner. humming with pleasure, he licked up the underside of his length until he reached the tip, allowing his wet tongue to swirl around the swollen head collecting his precum. "fuck you taste so good." he whispers as he uses his free hand to fondle his man's balls.

Nobody from the East Highland would ever have thought that Tyler was once Nate Jacobs the football player and someone who kept his life hidden and hated himself for it.

For the games and the hating himself for who he was That was until Lexi and her play she made him feel like he was able to be himself even if his family kicked him out for his dad's arrest and he ended up in new York and he moved on and headed out here and changed everything about himself and created someone else someone who was a god and unable to be seen as that jock because he was dead.

But Romeo knew all about the old Nate and he would even show him pictures of the person he was before.

The golden boy once existed. Fuck that and fuck the past..

The spark that ignited their meeting led to this thing coming to fruition. Two individuals who both loved and fucked equally hard.

Despite everyone's belief that it wouldn't work, it did work out for them.

.. They might fuck around, but they had a promise to each other that was as good as anything that he had to give to him and besides this was a marriage in all the ways Tyler could give that to him.

Snapping out of his thoughts Tyler or Nate leaned back on the bed and he looked at his lover with lust in his eyes, wanting to go to this party and have some fun but he wanted him more. It was always this way - fucking and partying, and doing it all over again.

" You always take care of me. I love it when you touch me. It's consistently the same: I engage in sexual activity with others and converse with those who only want a good story from me. My intention is to showcase you and the world that we are together. And if we decide to go, you can pick out something for me to wear. ' He let him unzip his leather pants, exposing his hard cock.

And the truth is he was happy with his life, even if it was about sex, drugs and rock and roll it was something special and he was in love and hard for the one he loved. " Of course I am. I was feeling the absence of you and your wonderful mouth. His voice was filled with need. While the ex-athlete was thinking about his life and the past, they played music together and loved each other.. Is there a chance that everything will come to a close? He refused to allow it.

#predatorymaniac #ship: romeo + nate

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lena-in-a-red-dress · 3 years ago

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Needles & Ink, Pt 2 (NSFW)

Lena slips in the back door of the InkSpot. She pauses just inside, absorbing the utter silence that fills the place. Gone is the thumping music, and buzzing of machines. Gone is the bustle of clients coming and going. It's completely and utterly still.

At nearly 4am, it's well past normal operating hours, even for the night crowd. Lena knows she herself ought to be in bed, catching as many winks as she could before her next morning meeting, but-- even after a day of committees and endless reports, Lena is absolutely wired. She'd known tugging on James' door would be a long shot, but when it opened she'd hoped her fellow night owl might be down for a late tattoo session.

Looking out across the darkened shop, though, it seems more likely that James has simply forgotten to lock the back door. She pulls out her phone, intent on teasing James into oblivion, but freezes when an odd sound drifts out of James' office.

It sounds almost like a moan, but when it's followed by another, longer moan of a different pitch, Lena realizes someone is humming. Someone in the office is humming a Bonnie Tyler song.

Total Eclipse of the Heart, to be exact.

Lena saunters silently to the office door and leans against it, taking a moment to observe Kara Danvers humming along to the music playing in her ears. She's bent over paperwork, and despite the hour and the solitude a soft smile graces her lips, pulling one to Lena's own face at the sight of it.

"You look good," she says in a low voice.

Kara jumps violently in her seat, jolting the entire desk with the force of her gasp.

"Oh my sweet baby Jesus!!" she exclaims, pressing a hand to her chest. When she looks up, Kara sags at the sight of Lena. "You scared me!"

Lena watches Kara remove her earbuds, and folds her arms over her chest, still leaning against the door frame. "Sorry," she purrs unapologetically. She smiles. "How are you? It's been a while."

"Good, good. I mean, I'm-- I'm in Metropolis! Wait-- you're in Metropolis! What are you doing here??"

Lena gives a tilt of her head. "Business. I may have moved my company to National City, but it still feels as though I do more business here than there these days."

"Right, um..." Kara suddenly looks nervous, casting a worried look past Lena into the hallway. "Sorry, but um.... we're kind of closed? Actually-- how did you get in here?"

Lena huffs a faint laugh. "Back door. James lets me slip in now and then. I was hoping he would have time for a quick session."

"Oh, um... I'm the only one here. Sorry."

"Don't be," Lena smiles. "It's good to see you. Is James treating you well? I don't need to yell at him, do I?"

"Oh, no! No, no, he's been great-- everyone has been really amazing, truly. I couldn't have asked for better hosts. I've been loving it here."

Lena nods, glad to hear it. Pushing off the door jamb, she lets her arms fall, clasping her hands in front of her. "Well, I won't keep you. It was good to see you--"

"W-wait!" Kara jerks to her feet, slamming into the desk yet again in her haste to keep Lena from leaving. Lena pauses, biting back a smile at her clumsiness. "James isn't here, but I am. Why don't we do some more work on your crane?"

"Oh, it's late--"

"No, I-- I mean, I'll text James to make sure it's okay, but... I'm down if you are."

Lena regards her for a long moment.

"Okay."

---

There’s something ethereal in the moments that follow. James gives his blessing, which Kara barely notices past the distraction that is Lena Luthor unbuttoning her blouse. Backlit by a halo of neon light, she looks like a hazy dream, long and beautiful and full of mystery even as she lays herself bare.

In deference to the late hour, Kara keeps the overheads off, and simply turns on her worklight. The spill of light pulls Lena’s attention to her, catching her watching. In the shadows, Lena smiles coyly.

“Like what you see?” Lena asks, casting her shirt aside. She takes a wide stance, presenting herself to Kara’s gaze in all her tattooed glory. Maybe it’s the late hour, but Kara allows her gaze to linger, charting a path from the stylized storm brewing at Lena’s collarbones, to the dragon that disappears down one hip.

“Always,” she murmurs.

Lena looks aside for a moment-- when she looks back, it’s with a heat that sends a bolt of desire straight to Kara’s core. She takes a breath that quakes in her lungs, and then suddenly Lena is there, tucking a wisp of hair behind Kara’s ear.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you since our first session,” Lena murmurs.

A flush heats Kara’s neck and face. “Me either,” she confesses. “I mean. You too--”

Her blunder is swallowed by a kiss. Lena’s lips press against Kara’s, warm and soft and absolutely intoxicating. Kara lifts her hands, framing Lena’s face and pulling her closer to deepen the kiss. She’s rewarded with a muted moan, and Lena’s hands on her hips, thumbs brushing beneath the hem of Kara’s tank top.

“You are so beautiful,” Kara breathes when they part, panting for air. There’s an insistent throbbing between her legs, aching for more. Lena’s hand cups her gently, making her whimper.

“May I?” Lena whispers against her ear. Biting her lip, Kara nods. Only then does Lena unbutton Kara’s jeans with her long fingers, peeling the denim away to reveal her panties. Kara’s completely forgotten hat she’s wearing until Lena laughs, low and throaty in Kara’s ear.

The pizza panties. Goddammit.

“I love them,” Lena murmurs, reassuring her. “But I’d love them even better on my bedroom floor.”

Oh god. Kara envisions a clean penthouse apartment, spotless save for the mess of their discarded clothes. But here in the shop? Gross.

“Guess I’ll just have to make do,” Lena says, hitching up the legs of her trousers to kneel between Kara’s legs. In moments, Kara’s pants and panties are both below her hips and a warm tongue sweeps through her folds, collecting the moisture of her arousal in a single taste. Lena hums with pleasure before her thumb gets to work against Kara’s bare clit.

Kara quivers, nearly staggering as her body reacts. Lena’s hands brace her hips, steadying her.

“All right there?” she asks, playfully teasing. Kara whimpers with a nod. To her surprise, Lena guides Kara’s leg to rest over her shoulder, until Kara’s stretched and gaping at her very core. “Press against me if you need to.”

Kara nods again. She doesn’t last long. In mere moments she’s moaning and writhing against Lena’s mouth, shuddering as waves of ecstasy roll through her. Lena’s tongue continues to guide her through her orgasm, pressing firmly to calm her through the aftershocks. When she finally pulls away, Kara can’t bend down fast enough to kiss her own taste away from Lena’s lips.

“On the table,” Kara urges, pulling Lena from her knees. She hastily pulls her pants up, but leaves them unfastened as she quickly devotes her attention to the curves of Lena’s body. Lena doesn’t quite make it on top of the table. She settles for leaning against its edge as she kisses Kara soundly, her hands buried in Kara’s hair.

Kara kisses her messily, wet and sloppy, but Lena can’t seem to get enough. She only pulls her hands away to fumble at the back zipper of her dress pants, until Kara nudges her. “Turn around,” she murmurs.

Lena turns, and Kara carefully unzips her trousers. They fall to her ankles, exposing the rest of Lena’s tattoos. Kara takes a moment to admire them, kneeling to run her hands from Lena’s hip to her ankle, tracing the shape of the tiger clawing up one leg and the dragon coiling down the other. Even in the low light Kara can see the artistry, the mastery of the craft that has been inked into Lena’s skin. And there, curving around Lena’s ribs, a crane peeks out-- Kara’s own offering to the altar that is Lena’s body.

Unlike Kara’s pizza panties, Lena is resplendent in black lace. The fabric hugs Lena’s hips and ass in a tantalizing display. Kara can barely breathe as she stands and runs her fingers across the floral threadwork. Her whimper is eclipsed by a wonton moan from Lena’s throat, her hips pressing out and back against Kara’s hands.

“Kara…”

Lena’s voice is heady, even breathless. It sends a shudder of delirium down Kara’s spine. How is this her life. But Lena’s need is real and evident in the heady utterance, prompting Kara to hook her fingers under the panties and delicately sliding them down Lena’s hips. Every inch of Lena’s inked buttocks steals Kara’s breath, leaving her gasping by the time Lena shifts plaintively in her heels. Finally, Kara cups Lena from behind, and when Kara finds arousal nearly dripping from Lena’s core, she swallows thickly.

“Relax for me, baby girl.”

Lena shudders, sending a gush of fresh warmth into Kara’s palm. Leaning forward, Kara slides one hand down to Lena’s wrist, pressing it against the table as she slips two fingers into Lena’s folds. Gently, she begins to thrust.

“Harder,” Lena gasps almost immediately. She shifts her stance until Kara’s fingers hit a new spot. Kara nods, catching Lena’s gaze when she turns her head to look over one bare shoulder. She increases her speed, adds just a touch more pressure, and is rewarded with a hitch in Lena’s breath. Soon Lena is moaning with every breath, her back glistening with building sweat as her body temperature rises.

Suddenly, Lena’s body shudders with a piercing moan, her walls clenching tight around Kara’s fingers. Just as she begins to come down, Kara releases Lena’s wrist to slip between her hips and the table to press her thumb against Lena’s clit, rubbing swift, furious circles until Lena crests again with a sharp gasp.

When she recovers, Lena turns against the table to loop her arms around Kara’s neck. Kara wraps herself around Lena’s bare skin, nuzzling against her neck, nibbling at her pulse point.

“You’re incredible,” Lena murmurs.

Kara hums against Lena’s neck.

“I’m not finished yet.”

---

Kara draws back to wipe her hair from her eyes. Lena lays before her on a freshly sterilized table in nothing but her bra and panties, looking sleepy and relaxed despite the blood stippling to the surface of her skin.

“You know,” Kara observes, “not everyone would follow sex with a tattoo chaser.”

Lena smiles. “Their loss,” she murmurs. “I highly recommend it.”

Forgoing the use of a stencil, Kara had freehanded the plumage of the crane directly onto Lena’s skin, and already she could see the bird coming to life.

Kara smirks. “Not everyone is a masochist.”

“Imagine tattooing while having sex,” Lena drawls. “Now that would be kinky.”

A laugh bursts out of Kara, earning a deep grin from Lena. With her hair loose and sweaty, Lena is a veritable dream-- to have her skin under Kara’s needle is an honor on a bed of honors. The atmosphere is slow and silky around them, like the world outside has slowed to a standstill without them. Kara savors every moment, lest it all slip away.

“So how has Metropolis treated you so far?” Lena asks, watching Kara dip her needle in fresh ink. She relaxes back when Kara approaches, allowing her easy access to the tattoo site. She doesn’t flinch when Kara resumes. “Still taking walk-ins? Besides me, of course.”

Kara grins, even as she focuses on what she’s doing. “You’re the first one I’ve taken in weeks, actually. Most people are looking for big, personal pieces, so the walk ins don’t really happen you know?” She pauses. “I’ve already started booking back at Argo, since my time here is already booked up.”

“Really? Congratulations!”

“Thanks.” Kara can’t help but blush. “But you know… something tells me I probably have you to thank for all this.”

Lena regards her. “Oh? How so?”

“Well, I’m pretty sure you’re the only canvas I’ve worked on that James Olsen would have seen.”

Lena’s lips part in a silent ah. She regards Kara for a long moment, before reaching out a hand to halt Kara’s ministrations. With a single touch, she pulls Kara’s entire attention to her.

“I didn’t suggest anything, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

Kara doesn’t respond, and thereby tips her hand: it’s exactly what she’s afraid of. That a top-paying client threatened to withdraw their business unless James agreed to take on an unknown artist from a strip mall in National City.

Lena cups her cheek gently.

“All I did was show James the work you’d done-- as I would for any piece I was proud of.” She holds Kara’s gaze, allowing her to see the truth in Lena’s eyes. “Anything he did after that is entirely on you and your body of work. Do you hear me?”

Kara releases a shaky breath, laughing slightly. “Yeah,” she murmurs. “I hear you.” She wipes her eyes with the back of her arm. “Now lay back so I can finish.”

Lena does so, but her eyes don’t leave Kara. Kara can feel her gaze linger, until she’s too immersed in her art to be aware of anything else.

---

“This,” Lena says hours later, pressing cash into Kara’s hand, “is for the tattoo. Just to be clear.”

Without even looking at it, Kara tucks it away. “Good to know.”

“Wouldn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea,” Lena winks, earning a chuckle in return.

“Right. Absolutely. But you know…”

“Hmmm?”

Kara tugs Lena closer by the hips, bringing their fronts flush together. Taing advantage of their proximity, Kara kisses her deeply. “You’re going to need some touch ups.”

Lena smiles against her, then kisses her again.

“Well, then…. I guess I’ll just have to see you again.”

“You will.” Kara creeps her hands playfully up Lena’s shirt, only for Lena to pull away with a good natured laugh.

“I have to go, but, ah… I’ll see you later?”

Kara watches Lena back away towards the rear entrance, a smile ever present on her lips.

“Yeah. You will.”

It’s not until long after Lena leaves that Kara realizes.

She didn’t get Lena’s phone number.

#supercorp #needles & ink #tattoo au #smut #ye be warned #as a treat #still dunno where this is going #but i had a vision and i ran with it #hope y'all like it #let me know what you think

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softholand · 4 years ago

Text

pot valiant - t.h

pairing: bartender!tom x reader

summary: pot-valiant, definition; bold or courageous under the influence of alcoholic drink

warnings: drinking, swearing, smut, dom!tom

words: 4.3k

a/n: i did it!!! bartender!tom was always present in my mind and after that picture (thanks paddy!!) i couldn’t help myself ;))) i hope you guys like this and please let me know what you think <3 enjoy!!

Two weeks, three days, 5 hours, and 22 seconds. That was the time your best friend Briana gave you to mourn your last failed relationship. Once that time had passed, she broke into your house, made you take a much necessary shower, forcing you to shave and wash your hair, while she took care of the mess that was your house. Plastic food containers and cans of beer and Coca-Cola littered both the kitchen and the living room floor, making the house smell like a garbage can.

“Glad to see you’re still alive!” Briana cheered after you got out of the shower, wearing your fluffy robe. “I am but barely. Wow, what did you do to my house?” You asked, being met with a completely different scenario from the one you left.

“I just put out the trash, y/n! Something you should have done before.” Briana scolded you, making you roll your eyes. “Should have waited and put me out too, since I feel like trash!” You groaned, flopping down on your sofa.

“Hey, no, no, no! Get up, y/n! We’re going out!” Your best friend announced, before trying to make you stand. “Noooo, please, Bri! I’ll do anything you want, but that!” You pleaded, but it was of no use. “I don’t wanna hear it, y/n! I didn’t come here to clean your house, I came to take you out of here and that’s what I’m gonna do.” Briana stated, taking your hands.

“Bri, I love you, but please let me stay just a little longer, I’m not ready for the outside world yet.” You groaned, trying your best to convince your best friend. “y/n, I love you too, that’s why I’m here! I can’t stand seeing you like this anymore! Yeah, what Tyler did to you was fucked up, but that doesn’t mean you have to stop living your life because of it.” Briana exclaimed.

“I know, Bri! I know! It’s just… hard for me to wrap my head around the fact he ditched me after all this time and that I’m single now.” You sighed, starting to feel emotional. At that, Briana pulled you closer and wrapped her arms around you, engulfing you in one of her best hugs. “I’m sorry, y/n! I didn’t mean to make you cry again.” Bri apologized, making you chuckle through your tears. “It’s okay, Bri! It’s not your fault, really. I’m just… a mess!” You laughed, drying your face with the robe sleeves.

“One drink. We get one drink and if you still don’t wanna stay after that, we leave. I promise!” Your friend offered, with hopeful eyes. “Fine! One drink!” You sighed, to which she squealed. “Yes! Thank you, y/n! You’re not gonna regret it! I’ve found this new club, it opened just a couple of weeks ago. You’re gonna love it!” She grinned. “Now, go put on your best outfit, we’re going out!” Briana squealed, making you laugh at her excitement.

About an hour later and after a whole lot of makeup and trying on clothes, Briana finally decided you were done with what she called: a Cinderella transformation. Of course, you laughed at her choice of words, and to irritate your friend, even more, you asked if you also should be back at midnight. She gave you the middle finger, before giving up and joining you in laughter.

After a quick cab ride, that could be done by feet, not with the heels you two were wearing though, you and Briana were at the new club she talked about. Once inside, you had to admit your best friend was right. The place looked like a mix of everything you enjoyed, the walls were coated in a beautiful shade of red, while the lounge area was filled with dark green sofas. Different from the other places you had been to, the bar on this one was positioned right in the middle, with bar stools in that same dark green velvet texture, rounding the space. The dim light that filled the space gave a mysterious/sensual vibe, something you were also a fan of.

Briana immediately dragged you to the bar, waiting patiently for one of the many bartenders. While she made her request, you took the time to scan the place, noting some artsy bits that complemented the space. “What can I get you?” A smooth masculine voice took you out of your daze, making you avert your attention to him. Right in front of you, a gorgeous boy with hazel eyes and chocolatey brown curls grinned at you, waiting for your answer. What was even the question?

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.” You apologized, making his smile grow even more. “I asked what can I get you tonight, darling?” He asked, making you smile with the nickname. “Oh, uh… a daiquiri, please!” You finally said, not being able to avert his gaze. “Good choice! I’ll be right back, girls!” He smirked, before going to the enormous wall of beverages behind him.

Once he was out of earshot, Briana lightly kicked your bare leg, getting your attention. “Isn’t he hot?” She mouthed, making you roll your eyes. “Really, Bri? Already?” Shaking your head, you went back to looking at your surroundings. “Oh, c’mon y/n! A woman has to eat!” Briana joked, making you both burst out laughing.

Seconds later, hot guy was back, this time with two cocktail shakers in his hands. Like every bartender in the world, he made his presentation while pouring the ingredients into the containers, making sure to really flex his arms while shaking it. Not that you noticed.

With two glasses in front of you, he poured the drinks in, doing the finishing touches before serving them to you. “Two pretty drinks for two pretty ladies, enjoy!” He smirked, before going back to his business. “Oh God, he only gets better!” Briana jokingly fanned herself, making you laugh. “He’s just doing his job, Bri! How many times do you think he used that one?” You asked your friend, who rolled her eyes at you. “You’re no fun!” She groaned, putting her tongue out.

Briana was only halfway through her Cosmopolitan when one of her favorite songs started to play. She made everything in her power to make you go with her but you denied her offer, stating you were fine watching her from the bar. With her drink in her hands, she made her way into the dance floor, purposely shaking her booty at you, which made you laugh and almost choke on your barely touched drink.

“Not into dancing?” The same voice from minutes ago asked, startling you. “Oh, no! Not today, at least!” You shrugged, offering him a smile. “So, what brought you and your friend here? I’m Tom, by the way!” He asked, cleaning the surface in front of him, making the watch he wore catch the fluorescent lights of the club. “y/n! And to be honest, she dragged me here.” You told him, giving into their usual small talks. “Wanna talk about it? I’m a pretty damn good listener!” He offered you with a smile.

You took a deep breath, asking yourself if it was really a good idea to share a part of your life with a stranger, and since you weren’t going to step foot on the dance floor, you thought this was the next most reasonable thing to do. Right? “Well, I was into a two-year relationship that ended a couple of weeks ago, and apparently staying inside your house, eating takeout food, and crying over stupid romantic movies is not a very healthy thing to do, so today she went to my house and here I am.” You smiled, taking a sip of your drink.

Once you looked at Tom, he gave you a pitiful look, to which you shrugged. “That’s not even the worst part though.” You said, the alcohol in your system already making the choices for you. “Instead of calling me or sending me a text asking to talk, you know, like a normal person, he invited me to his parents’ tenth-anniversary party and broke up with me in front of his whole family, claiming I wasn’t what he wanted in a relationship anymore.” With a raise of your glass, you finished your sad story, downing the rest of your daiquiri.

“Damn, what a dick!” Tom breathed after a couple of seconds, making you chuckle. “Oh, well! Cheers to single life, I guess…” You said, raising your now empty glass. “Need a refill?” He asked, pointing to the glass on your hands. “Please!” You huffed, before thanking him. “What will it be now?” Tom smirked, seeing your thinky face. “I don’t know, something strong.” He nodded, giving you two thumbs-ups, before going back to the wall to collect the ingredients.

Once the song ended, Briana came back to you and you two chatted until Tom came back with your drink, waiting for your approval. “It’s good! I like it! Thanks, Tom!” You smiled, locking eyes with him. “Do you want a refill too, darling?” He asked Briana, to which she said a beer would be fine. Once he was off, you felt your best friend's eyes burning a hole in your skull. “What?” You asked, impatiently. “We’re already on a name basis then?” Briana smirked, making you roll your eyes at her. “Yeah, I mean, he introduced himself, what did you want me to do?” You snapped and that was enough to her smirk double in size. “Okay, girl! You sure you don’t want to go home then?” She asked you for what felt like the fifth time. “Yes, Bri! I’m good! I promise!” You assured your best friend before she once again was off to the dance floor.

You quietly took sips of your new strawberry drink, watching from afar as your friend seemed to get her eyes on a specific guy for the night. She gave you a wink, making you roll your eyes at her antics. “She seems to be enjoying herself.” You heard Tom’s voice, turning the barstool to find him looking at you. “Yeah, she always does!” You agreed, taking another sip of your drink. “So, you’re from here?” He asked, sounding interested. “Yeah, I’m a local! You?” You said, raising your brows. “Same!” He smiled, going right to the next question.

The conversation kept going for most of the night, Tom attended some clients, while you took sips of your drinks, and once he was free, he was right back at you with another round of questions. Seeing as Briana wasn’t by your side anymore, you welcomed his company, glad at least this way you wouldn’t be left alone. “Museologist? I’ve never heard that before!” He grinned, making you chuckle. “Yeah, it’s not very common. Basically what I do is investigate and preserve material cultural stuff, like paintings, sculptures or constructions and immaterial, such as traditions and folklore.” You answered and Tom couldn’t help but find adorable the way your eyes lit up while you talked.

Briana came back after a couple more songs, sitting by your side and asking Tom another beer. “So, found your prey?” You joked, making her laugh. “Actually, I did! See that blonde? With the samurai bun?” She pointed and you nodded once your eyes landed on him. “Nice, Bri!” You complemented, giving her a playful high five. “Right? And he’s so sweet and smart and funny! He even asked me if I wanted to go to his house.” She blurted, seemingly disappointed. “And?” You asked, not getting why she reacted that way. “Oh, no! I’m not leaving you. I dragged you here so I’m taking you home.” Briana exclaimed, to which you rolled your eyes. “Bri, I’m totally able to call a cab and go home by myself. I’m fine, I promise! You can go with Mr. Samurai bun if you want.” You assured her, seeing her eyes widen. “No, y/n/n! I promised you!” She protested, making you groan. “I’m fine, Bri! Go with him!” Once again, you insisted. “Are you sure?” She asked and you had to laugh at her. “I’m not a child, Bri! Now go, he’s not going to wait all night!” You teased, getting a hug and a kiss on the cheek from your friend before she was off.

“Lost your friend?” Tom asked once he was back from his bartender duties. “Yeah, it's just me now and I think I’ll actually call it a night and go home.” You told him, making him frown. “Hey, not to sound creepy or anything but are you going by yourself? Because that’s not very safe and my shift ends in like ten minutes. If you want, I can accompany you.” With hopeful eyes, the boy in front of you smiled, making your heart flutter just a tiny bit. You thought about leaving a stranger accompanied you home, you really did, but something in your gut told you it was fine, Tom was a good guy and would never do anything to harm you. So, you went with it. “Yeah, that would be great, actually.” You smiled and ten minutes later, you were both leaving the club, at 3:30 in the morning.

Tom offered to call a cab but seeing as your house was only a few minutes away, you asked if it was okay for him that you guys walked. He agreed and with the moon illuminating your steps, the pair of you made your way into the almost silent streets. You guys kept talking and occasionally your hands would brush on one another, which caused little butterflies to erupt in your stomach. Once in front of your apartment building, you stopped, having no idea what to do next, since you were in a relationship for the last two years.

“It was nice meeting and talking to you, Tom!” You said, opting for the easiest way out. “Yeah, the feeling is mutual, y/n!” He answered, stuffing both of his hands in his pockets. “Thank you for… listening.” You mumbled, making him chuckle. “Of course! Whenever you need!” He smiled, not moving a muscle. “I’ll see you around, then. Bye!” With a little wave of your hand, you made your way to the door, while Tom watched you from his place. “Sure! Bye, y/n!” He exclaimed, making you smile, finally entering the building.

That’s how you found yourself going back to that same club every Friday, getting a couple of drinks while talking to Tom, then being escorted home by him. You had been doing this for almost a month now and Briana was starting to get suspicious. It was Friday again and she had just called you while you finished getting ready. “So, any plans for tonight?” She asked, already predicting your answer. “Not really, just gonna get some drinks and head home.” You said while clasping your black sandals. “Tom’s gonna bring you home again?” You sighed, already knowing where this conversation was heading. “I don’t know, Bri! If he wants to.” You looked in the mirror for the last time, before taking your bag and heading out. Once Briana finally hung up, you threw your phone into your purse, getting into the cab.

The routine was the same, you got in, spotted Tom, sat in one of the many barstools, and waited for him to approach you. “What can I get this beautiful lady today?” He joked, a smile wide on his face. Today he was wearing a simple black shirt, tight around his muscles, the watch still sat proudly on his wrist, and his curls were a little bit messier than most days. “You know you don’t have to waste your pickup lines with me, Tom.” You smiled, watching his reaction. “Okay then, what can I get this grumpy old lady today?” He smirked, making you chuckle. “A Sex On The Beach, please?!” You grinned and after a quick wink, he was off.

The rest of the night passed like magic, you didn’t even see the time pass and once you took a look at your phone, you saw that it was almost time for Tom’s shift to end, which meant it was time to head home. The chilly London air hit as soon as you stepped out of the club, making you shiver, seeing as you were only in a dress. Like the gentleman he was, Tom took off his jacket and placed it on your shoulders, and although you protested, saying he was going to catch a cold, he assured you he was fine with his shirt.

You didn’t know what you were thinking when the words “Do you wanna come inside?” came out of your mouth but now was definitely too late to take them back. “Oh, yeah! Sure!” Tom agreed, making you smile. The short lift ride was awkward and once you walked into your apartment, the feeling only grew. Tom stayed pretty close to the door, with both of his hands in his pockets, while you put your purse away and turned on the lights. “Welcome and sorry for the mess.” You said, going back to the living room. Tom just smiled, before saying, “You call this messy? You should see my house!” You both laughed and the tension was back in the air. “Do you want anything? Water, wine, beer?” You offered, taking off your shoes and his jacket, putting the both away. “Water would be good.” He said and you quickly made your way to the kitchen, shaking your head to try and get rid of some very intrusive thoughts.

“Thanks!” He smiled, taking the glass from your hands, while your eyes kept focused on his arm and the prominent veins and the way his shirt was almost being ripped by his bicep. “y/n? You here?” Tom’s voice brought you back, making your face grow hot with the knowledge you got caught. “Yes, sorry!” You apologized, watching as his smirk grew in size. He placed the cup on the small table by your door, before taking a couple of steps closer. Slowly, as if testing the waters, he put his hands on your hips, leaning the smallest bit in, not taking that stupid smirk off of his face.

His smell was intoxicating, the mixture of alcohol and mint was definitely making your mind clouded. “Tom…” You whispered once he was only centimeters away from you. “What is it, y/n?” He asked, looking between your eyes and your lips. “Kiss me!” You almost pleaded, his smirk the last thing you saw before his lips were crashing into yours. The feeling was new, you hadn’t kissed anyone since your ex-boyfriend and you couldn’t help but compare them. Tom’s was so much better though, his lips could be thin but they held so much power on them, his mouth worked like magic against yours, and before you knew he was pulling away, completely breathless. The pause didn’t last long though, he looked so good with his lips plumped, the tiniest of the smirks still proudly on them, you just couldn’t help yourself and launched yourself at him.

You backed him against the wall, moaning when you felt his tongue entering your mouth. Tom placed both of his hands on your ass, squeezing it before asking, “Bedroom?” Without breaking the kiss, you pointed in the direction of your room and before you knew it, he was carrying you in his arms. You squealed, wrapping your legs around his torso, before going back to his lips. He placed you on the bed, making a trail of kisses from your neck, all the way to your stomach. Once he positioned himself between your tights, he looked at you with his bright brown eyes, asking if he could take your dress off. You nodded and after a little bit of a struggle, he took the thin material out of your body, leaving you in just a pair of white underwear. “You’re so beautiful!” He whispered, going back to your lips and attacking them with kisses. “Tom, please…” You moaned, growing even more eager to feel him. “What do you want, darling?” He smirked, loving seeing you like that. “You, I want you!” With a shake on your voice, you pleaded and he finally took the clue and went to work.

After another confirmation from you, he discarded your panties, tracing his fingers through your now soaked folds. “You look amazing, y/n!” Tom breathed before going straight to your core. You let out a moan as soon as his lips touched you, making your whole body shake with pleasure. “And tastes amazing too!” He purred, focusing on his task. Your moans only grew louder when he pushed two of his slender fingers on your heat. “Fuck, Tom! Feels so good!” You blurted, not being able to control yourself. “That’s it, baby! I can feel your walls clenching around my fingers. Tell me how much do you wanna cum.” Tom whispered, making you clench even more, only by his words. “Wanna cum, Tom! Please…” You were never this talkative in bed and not once has a guy been this dominant with you but you couldn’t say you weren’t enjoying it. “Cum for me, baby! Wanna hear you scream my name!” He mumbled and finally lost control. Your whole body shook with pleasure and you had to contain yourself from closing your thighs around Tom’s head.

Once you came back from your high, you opened your eyes to find Tom already looking at you, with some of your wetness still glistening on his chin. “You alright?” He asked, concern coating his words. “Yeah!” You smiled, before going back to his lips. With a quick move, you straddled him, helping him take off his shirt, letting his chest perfectly exposed for you. You lowered yourself, leaving a trail of kisses on his jaw, neck, collarbones, chest, each one of his abs, and finally, his perfectly sculpted v line. “Are you sure? You don’t have to, I’ll be perfectly fine by just giving...” You interrupted his mumbling by attaching your lips to his, hoping it would be his answer.

With the rest of his clothes discarded, you couldn’t help but admire his body. He was perfect. Sculpted by the gods, even. After wetting your hands, you took his cock, pumping a few times before attaching your lips to it. You twirled your tongue, tasting his precum, feeling him grow harder and harder on your hands. “Holy shit, you feel so good, y/n!” His words of encouragement were enough for you to start moving your head up and down, taking his member into your mouth inch by inch, until he was bucking his hips. “Fuck! You’re bloody amazing, darling!” He praised, while making direct eye contact with you, “But if you want more, you better stop before I coat your throat with my cum.” You had to admit, his dirty talk was doing something to you.

Releasing his cock with a loud pop, you climbed on top of him, kissing his lips. “Do you have a condom?” He asked between kisses. “Bedside table, first draw.” You answered and after a loud smack on your ass, you got off of him, both of you wearing playful smiles on your faces. Tom opened the foil package and rolled the material into his member, positioning himself at your entrance. “You sure you wanna do this?” He asked, making sure you wanted this as much as he did. “Yes, Tom! I want you to fuck me!” You said, kissing his lips.

With both of his hands on your hips and a huge smirk on his face, he pushed himself into you, making you moan. It took you a few seconds to get used to him and once you nodded, Tom started to move, bringing another level of pleasure to your body. “Fuck! You’re so tight around me, y/n!” He whispered, biting your earlobe. “Tom, fuck me harder!” You pleaded, wanting nothing more than to be railed by him. That seemed to take Tom by surprise but he was quick to obey your wish, thrusting harder and harder into your soaking wet core. “You look so beautiful like that, all sweaty, begging me for more!” He kept praising you, feeling how much you liked when he did.

With both of his arms by your head, he caged you, tattooing your face with kisses. “Feel so good, Tom! Please, make me cum!” You mumbled, by now barely able to form sentences. Tom was quick to obey and once his fingers found your clit, rubbing small circles in it, you were gone. Toes curling, you arched your back, getting a handful of the mattress in one hand while the other scratched Tom’s back. “Fuck, y/n!” With a final thrust of his hips, Tom reached his high, moaning your name like it was the most beautiful prayer.

He collapsed on top of you, leaving a long kiss on your lips, before getting up and tossing the condom on the trash. You went to the bathroom to clean yourself up, seeing as you were too tired to take a shower, and asked him if he wanted that too. He agreed and once you were decent enough, you put on clean panties and his discarded shirt, asking him to join you on the bed. Of course, he accepted, he wasn’t planning to go anywhere either so, after putting his boxers back on, he climbed on the bed with you.

You quickly doze off but right before you did, you admitted to yourself that, like most of the time, Briana was right, and going to that new club wasn’t a bad idea after all.

tagging: @stuckonspidey @bi-writes @duskholland @screamholland @missnxthingg @tomhollandthing @wazzupmrstark @peeterparkr @veryholland @spideyspeaches-deactivated20221 @lauras-collection @tommybaholland @rebekkah4766 @hopelessromm @pensivepeter @geminiparkers @mrs-hollandstan @hollandcreep @uglypastels

#my writing #tom holland #tom holland fanfic #tom holland imagine #tom holland blurb #tom holland one shot #tom holland fic #tom holland smut #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x fem #bartender!tom #bartender!tom x reader #tom holland writing

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hansoulo · 4 years ago

Text

lay back in cloying sin

part three of “Pillar of Salt”

Pairing: Boba Fett/Princess!Reader (she/her pronouns, no Y/N)

Warnings: NSFW-ish; references to marks and bruises, kissing, probably inaccurate descriptions of ballroom dancing, fluff, mentions of alcohol consumption

Word Count: 3.3k

Gif Credit: (x) by @/ktfhett

A/N: boba & reader: [tyler the creator voice] oh no i hope i don’t fall

༓ series masterlist ༓

Dinner was a tedious affair, filled with hollow pageantry. It was one last hurrah before the send off of the honored guests, one of which you’d never talked to and the other who was nowhere to be found. The former, Lord Vader, sat at the head of the long table and made for very unamusing company. You had the distinct impression that he’d rather be anywhere than here, having to listen to his uniformed subordinates squabble in grating voices and your father simper about mining collectives. That made for two of you.

But the cavernous banquet hall was always beautiful, if a bit ostentatious, and the food never disappointed, so you consoled yourself with a loosened corset and the promise of a second dinner by servants who pitied your forced small portions.

You floated into the large room, shuffled through by the compounding procession before an older man offered to help you into your seat. The ornateness of your evening wear made you grateful for the help, watching in sincere thanks as he pulled out the high-backed chair.

“Thank you, um…” the color of his robes and the softness of his hands signalled high rank and you chanced a guess. “Duke...?”

“Sagcock,” he finished for you. “Jovron Sagcock.”

He has got to be joking.

Evidently, he wasn’t.

If the man saw you choke on a laugh, sputtering it into a hiccup as you sat down, he pretended not to notice. After all, princesses knew better than to be unbecoming or crass or know why any part of that exchange could be fodder for humor.

Fighting down one last cough, you attempted to regain some sense of decorum. What a wonderful start to the evening.

The arrangement of persons on this particular night was strange though, even disregarding the title of the man now seated beside you. There were more people than usual filling out the hall tonight, all fancily clad and buffed to shining. Boba wasn’t anywhere to be found.

The supposed importance of the occasion probably necessitated a shuffling of seats to soothe egos and encourage conversation, but you weren’t used to being so close to the head of the table, near parallel with your mother. Usually your elder sisters sat higher and provided you the benefit of distance. Of course, they were all gone now. Your brother was still too young to be at evening dinners, so there was no buffer between you and your parents’ ire.

Maybe this was the Maker’s way of getting back at you for your tiny tryst. Maybe they all knew about what happened in the garden and were just waiting for the shoe to drop, branding you as a harlot and finally letting you free. Vader’s static words travelled down the table and mingled with your father’s but you were too busy entertaining worse-case scenarios to understand conversation.

People were observing you, you realized partway through the first round of courses. Watching you with strange eyes as if you were the last scrap of halfway-spoiled meat for imperial officials and all the nobility that had come to pay their prostrate respects. No one had really given half a damn about you before, which made it all the more strange.

A heel foot softly kicked at yours underneath the table, breaking you out of your glazed thoughts. The fork you had been mindlessly moving across your plate stopping mid-swirl. Looking up, you met the quiet glare of your mother and cleared your throat.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” you asked. Your question was punctuated with a smile too large to be genuine. The queen’s head jerked towards the grizzled man seated to her right and you turned towards him at her behest, face open in trained invitation. “Oh, hello, General.”

General Enes, current commander of the army of Quas Killam. Not strictly Imperial, but aligned close enough to have him in the king’s good graces and to reside permanently at court. He was also a Duke and probably a cousin thrice removed, but who was counting?

“No need to stand on pleasantries, your Highness,” the gray-haired man assured you, one large hand resting over his stomach as servants replaced the dirtied plates in front of you with new ones. You only sipped delicately at your algarine as he chortled and remembered, “It seems like yesterday that you were running around the palace with your sisters. A little sprite of a thing, weren’t you?”

Was he drunk already? “Yes, I remember,” you tread pleasantly; carefully.

The general settled and let out one last chuckle before his eyes grew hawk-like again, trained in the jewelry and accoutrements that signified your being old enough to marry but young enough to have not yet been taken. Like a prize. Or a charity donation. “You’ve grown into quite the young woman, you know.”

So that’s where this was going. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes and tried to look gracious. “Thank you, sir. That’s a high compliment.”

“How old are you again, dear?”

Masking your surprise at the forwardness of the question, you supplied your age to a nod of approval from both him and your mother.

“A good age, I’d say. ‘Round the same as my youngest.”

“Yes, I’m aware,” you shot a look down the table and caught a glimpse of cropped flaxen hair, its owner sitting enough seats down to prevent any shared conversation. You counted your blessings for it and smiled, tight-lipped. “Your son and I shared company when we were children.”

“Well that’s very nice,” the queen interjected quite loudly and looked around the long table with a light laugh but cold eyes. “Isn’t that nice?”

Your father looked at you for the first time all evening as if on cue, boring a hole into your face with the words he seemed to be telepathically trying to put in your mouth.

The taste of bitter wine on your tongue made your thoughts fevered, though not borne out of alcohol so much as the memories of someone else’s touch in the same places. “Yes,” you repeated vaguely. “Very nice.”

Darth Vader apparently didn’t remove his helmet. You wondered why he came to dinner at all.

The remaining evening hours had been whittled away by dessert and drinks. Everyone who cared to stay shuffled into the ballroom, a behemoth of a thing filled with inky windows and sparkling artifice. It was a blur of waltzes and predetermined couplings with boys you’d been ignoring since you were old enough to kick them in their shins, but you didn’t care enough to go to pains to avoid it. They broke up the monotony of introductions, at least, and let your mind and body be somewhere else for a while.

All compounded, the night left you flushed and tired. You needed alcohol. Or air. The latter was probably the more reasonable choice of the two.

Being in the midst of ballroom theatrics allowed for an easy enough escape, and a side entrance to a balcony overlooking the palace grounds became the object of your attention.

The tall double doors lay open in their glass encasings and spilled out lamplight refractions on the guests’ gaudy clothing and gaudier jewelry, everything sparkling and warm. But you were far enough away from it to still be chilled by the night air, a balm for your flushed cheeks and fizzling temper.

Usually guests ignored it in favor of staying indoors, so you were fairly confident in the promise of solitude and an undisturbed breeze.

But someone apparently had the same idea as you.

“Hello,” you ventured out a greeting to the silhouette not yet fully in your vision. You stepped closer and the heels of your shoes echoed on clay tiles. “I’m sorry, am I bothering you?”

Royal Highnesses shouldn’t really care about whether or not they were disturbing strange party guests, you could make them leave if you felt so inclined, but something in you was feeling magnanimous tonight. You tried not to think about why.

The figure didn’t turn back towards you, still facing out towards the blurry glitter of urban lights far off in the distance. It looked pretty this far away, all glowing masses and amorphous buildings that scraped the sky. You’d never been close enough to see all the dinge and smog that made its home in places not populated by princesses. Marble felt more familiar than metal.

The man wore metal too, and his voice scraped at your chest when he answered. “You’re not bothering me, princess.”

Oh.

You ventured cautiously towards the balcony’s edge, next to the man you now could recognize as Boba. The thick stone railing was cool to the touch. “Hello.”

His helmet tipped to the left, which was probably his way of saying it back.

“I didn’t see you at the dinner,” you noticed quietly. Would it be presumptuous to assume he was avoiding you? Intellect said yes, but ego didn’t listen. You leant forward, the speckled marble digging into your elbows as you mirrored Boba’s sightline out into the city. “You know, you wouldn’t have needed to make conversation. Lord Vader was the guest of honor and all he did was sit there.”

“I don’t like crowds.”

“Ah.”

A silence lapsed between you, awkward as if you were strangers. You were though, weren’t you? Strangers. Not friends. Not lovers. Not really.

But if he asked you to crack yourself open for him, you would. You would rip apart every satin petticoat and snap the boning in your corsets until your hands were raw if it meant he would touch you; skin to skin. You’d run away and cite a hidden fountain as the reason why.

You didn’t know what he’d give up for you, if anything. Boba didn’t seem like the type to have much in the first place. Either by choice or by necessity.

The garden afternoon nagged at you after having time to form coherent thoughts, and the fizzy shine of palace lights reflecting off his helmet reminded you of what you’d been meaning to ask.

Night made you softer-spoken. “Why did you let me take off your helmet?”

Night made his edges sharper. “Why did you want to?”

“I asked first,” you volleyed back as reason enough to get an answer first.

Boba wasn’t a Mandalorian in the true sense of the word, at least that’s what gossip told you, so it didn’t really matter if he took the helmet off or not. But he kept it on in front of everyone else.

The hunter gave you visor-silence and your impatience made you concede. “I just wanted to see you,” you breathed out, still not looking at him. The admission sounded much more naive than you intended.

His words held their characteristic aloofness but were edged by gentle teasing. “What if I said the same?”

That he wanted to see you?

You still didn’t understand half of why he did what he did and what he wanted, but you turned to face him head-on anyway. Cold moonlight fell on your neck and the air cracked with fever. You tried to reply in jest. “Then I’d say that you were being stupid.”

“You’d be right.”

A swallow bobbed in your throat. He always seemed to take up your vision; fill it and suffocate you with seemingly no effort. “And then I’d ask you to do it again.”

“Do what, princess?”

He knew. He just liked seeing the words come out of your mouth.

“Let me take your helmet off.”

This time, he guided your hands up himself. They were slow and almost careful running across your palms, placing them on the mechanisms your fingers found in quick memory. Set on the balcony railing, the helmet seemed to be a prop. An upside down bucket filled with all the things you had yet to say to each other, spilling out onto the ground in a fog.

“I like you better without it,” you decided when he turned back towards you, his weight still resting on the railing with one cocked hip. Everything about the way he looked was dark: inky black curls and scarred brown skin and eyes that pushed the air in your lungs with a stall and a catch. They looked even darker next to tan clothes and green armor.

His voice wasn’t entirely lacking in humor. He did that. Humored you. “Do you now?”

“Mhm.” you nodded with fake seriousness, slightly giddy and slightly too brave. You blamed it on an excess of wine and good company. “Better-looking.”

He only scoffed, a flash of pearl-white canines serving as one half of a smile. A smile that had been wider when it was against your collarbones, your neck, your mouth. A smile that you wouldn’t mind being in other places.

You nudged Boba’s shoulder with your own when a waltz kicked up in the background, faint through the open ballroom door. “There’s music,” you implied, half-joking and half-expectant. There had been this whole time, of course, but acknowledging it now seemed better than never. “You should ask me to dance.”

“I’m not one for dancing, your Highness.”

The title made you roll your eyes, a commonplace formality that you usually insisted on but now found overly facetious. Coming from him, that is. “Clearly not,” you almost snorted. Pushing away from the marble ledge with a finality that seemed almost comical, you held your hand out and waited, eyebrows raising and fingers beckoning. Well? your face seemed to say, Are you coming?

His sigh was bone-deep and settled in your chest like chunks of black plaster, but it felt good. “You’re not going to let me leave, are you?”

“No, I’m not,” you replied, as if it’d be ridiculous to expect anything else. Princesses danced with men at parties. You were a princess. Boba was a man at a party. In a roundabout sort of way. “It’s easy, I promise,” you assured, wrapping your hand around his wrist and pulling him away from the balcony. His glove slipped down a bit; just enough that your thumb could press one soft circle against the tan skin over bone.

Uncomfortable wasn’t really the correct word for how you thought he felt. You doubted Boba could ever be uncomfortable. No. No, the right word would probably be… bemused. Like he was in a menagerie watching a creature, something exotic and pretty, with mild interest while it still had his attention. But you did have his attention. That was something.

“You put your right hand on my waist,” you moved to reposition the large fingers more accustomed to blasters than they were to bodices. Boba smirked, almost boyish, when you caught his hand wandering someplace else. “Not that low,” you chided with quiet exasperation, placing your palm atop his and guiding it back up.

The pale leather was warm underneath your skin and you bit down a smile, almost awe-struck at how strange your hand looked next to his. Yours was polished, weighed down by heavy gold bangles and softened by years of idle play. His, you suspected (for you didn't actually know; hadn’t yet actually seen), was anything but.

“That’s good,” you supplied lightly. “And then I do this,”your other hand reached to rest on Boba’s shoulder. “And then- no, no you give me your left hand. Hold it out- good.”

Still looking down, you were careful not to trip over your skirts or his boots. “And now we just-” you breathed out and glanced up, surprised to find his expression strangely careful. Almost tender. You gulped down the quiet notch in your throat. “-now we just um… sway. Like this.”

You eschewed complication in favor of a simple rhythm, just letting your feet fall wherever they liked so long as they didn’t tangle in themselves. Now wasn’t the time for anything laborious; you didn’t have faith enough in Boba’s footwork. But he actually wasn’t too bad all things considered. A bit stiff and a bit gruff, but those were part and parcel. It was a bit like dancing with a tree trunk. A very handsome, very broad, very taciturn tree trunk. It was easy to let yourself sink into it a little with how solid he felt.

The man arched an eyebrow when your fingers stretched to thread together with his. “Just sway?”

“You’re welcome to do a jig instead if you’d like,” you replied wryly as your weight shifted from foot to foot. The hand around your waist stiffened at the prospect and a grin escaped your face.

“Nevermind.”

The amusement that had previously only been in your throat escaped in a quiet laugh. “Thought so,” you whispered, victorious. Tension, bunched up in your shoulders and collected in your bones, melted completely when he pulled you closer and let your head fall against the space of his neck. Sinew fit against silk like puzzle pieces and warmed the quiet moment that followed. Neither of you spoke for fear of disturbing the fresh peace.

You found yourself dwelling more and more on hypotheticals. Unrealistic and stupid, you knew, given who you both were. But still you dwelt, unable to fathom a reality outside of the last nine hours and inside a reality within which Boba was gone.

Would he fit here, with the stucco and plaster and ivy? With all the sheltered society of an insignificant court? With you?

You wondered if he dwelt on hypotheticals, too.

Swallowing cold air as Boba thumbed the collar of your dress, you felt the light scatter of broken blood vessels from hours before smart again. Your cheek pressed against the pauldron of his beskar, but neither of you were really dancing anymore. “I- I wanted to talk,” you began quietly. “About earlier.”

“Did you not like it?” Did you not like me?

“No! No, I…” you shook your head, trying to rid yourself of his assumption. The crystals hanging from your headpiece tinkled with every soft movement. “No, I… I liked it. I like…” The lump in your throat seemed to travel down back into your stomach. “You,” you finished, swallowing the final word and leaving all its implications to settle in the night.

He could feel the rise and fall of your chest; delicate and airy and resigned. You spoke again. “But you’re leaving tomorrow and... and we could’ve been caught. And the more I think about it the more I really am not looking forward to the idea of some court scandal or being cloistered up like a nun because I—”

He called you your name.

He’d never used your name before.

You lifted your head off his shoulder, desperate-eyed and looking for answers you both knew he couldn’t give. “Yes?”

“Kiss me.”

You barely breathed out an okay before the arm around your waist tightened, crushing you against cold metal and a warm body.

He kissed you how a lover would. Like how a first kiss should’ve been.

It was gentle. Warm. Tender-mouthed and aching, placing promises down your throat with a soft hand and closed eyes. It was… It was…

It was broken up far too quickly.

A voice called out your name from somewhere far-off, regally accented and not at all welcome. It called your name again, first middle and last with all the titles in between with much less patience. Your mother, queen consort.

The groan of displeasure that escaped you was muffled in Boba’s mouth and swallowed up before it could give either of you away. He recovered much faster than you did, peeling back from your body with eyes already alert and scanning the shadows for passersby. There were none. For now.

“It’s my mother,” you whispered, letting your eyes roll seemingly out of your skull. “They’re probably doing some send-off for Vader’s entourage.”

Neither of you mentioned the fact that Boba was part of that entourage too.

Your last words were rushed before the footsteps became too close and the mercenary pulled away. You didn’t really want to stay to hear the answer. “Will I see you again?”

Boba Fett, you’d come to learn, wasn’t the kind of man to offer more than what he knew he could give.

The helmet went back on. “I don’t know.”’

#boba fett x reader #boba fett/reader #boba fett fanfiction #boba fett x you #boba fett imagine #boba fett oneshot #star wars fanfiction

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myhockeyworld87 · 4 years ago

Text

Bubble Wrapped - Part 8

Word Count: 4,741

POV: Reader

Warnings: Same as always, Language, Smut, NSFW, Please see the note in the Masterlist

Teams: Bruins, Caps, Flyers, Lightning and Pens (others)

Notes: So here’s the next installment of this series. Trying to move this along a little quicker. For a series that was only supposed to be 3 to 5 parts it’s practically double that. Ugh! Anyhow, I hope you guys enjoy. As always send me your feedback and suggestions. Happy Reading!

When your phone rang during your FaceTime with Tyler, you didn't expect who or what you heard to be on the other end. There was no 'Hi' or 'How are you' just a quick, "Hey (Y/N), I need your help?"

"Well hello to you too, Brandon." You told the winger from Pittsburgh.

"Oh yeah, Hi." You hadn't seen much of Tanev or Crosby for that matter since that night of the poker game in your suite, so it was kind of interesting to hear from him now.

"What do you need help with?"

"Well, you probably already know this, but it's Sid's birthday on Friday. The guys were saying they want to do something special with him playing that day and all. I may have mentioned that we've talked before…" He paused then and you had to wonder what else he'd told his teammates about that night. Hopefully, he didn't know about what happened with his captain after he left. "Anyhow, we were hoping to do a little party after the game, maybe with a cake and everything? And I was wondering if you could help me pull that off."

"I'm sure it won't be a problem." He could've given you a bit more notice, but you figured Carly could get you any decorations that you needed and you'd have one of the chefs whip up a cake.

"You're a lifesaver."

"Well, I wouldn't go that far. I'm just doing my job." Which you totally were, though you'd go the extra mile since it was Sidney. "I'll shut down one of the restaurants and we'll have it all ready to go after the game for you. Anything special you're looking for."

"Nah, whatever you do will be amazing." Brandon was being awfully complimentary, which was appreciated though you wondered if he had another motive. Not that you'd mind going a second round. Actually, you'd like to expand on the first one that you'd had with him and Zack, though being interrupted by Sid really wasn't something you minded. "I definitely owe you one."

"Hmm, I suppose you do. I might have to collect on it soon." Though it wasn't going to be tonight as you still needed to take that Tylenol for your jaw.

"I'll hold you to it." You were sure he would, it would just be a matter of when. "Well, listen if you have any questions you have my number, so just call."

"I will," you told Brandon, then you said your goodbyes and headed to bed for the night. The next day was fairly normal, though you and Carly worked on party details for the next day. Thankfully, your pastry chef was excited to make a cake for one of hockey's best player. He told you it would be magnificent and you had no doubt that he would come through. Carly was able to transform the restaurant from its quiet dining atmosphere into a celebratory nightclub. She was even able to get one of the other staff members to act as DJ for the event. You were quite pleased with what both of you pulled off when it was finally said and done. Now all you needed was the birthday boy.

"Brayden pointed out…" Carly said then started to giggle. "Did you see what I did there?" All you could do was shake your head at her bad pun on Brayden's last name, and tell her yes. "Well anyway, he said this might not be a celebration if the Pens lose. You realize they'll be eliminated right?"

"Fuck." The word flew out of your mouth as you realized she was right. You kept forgetting that these qualifying rounds were best of five instead of normal playoffs which were seven. "We may have done all this work for nothing." The two of you kept an eye on the score, watching it remain zero, zero, until only minutes left in the third when the Canadiens scored. That's when the f-bomb dropped out of your mouth again, only this time you realized you may be losing that bet to Tyler, not that you would mind that. His remote vibrator play had been fun and you were beginning to think that being his sex slave for twenty-four hours might not be so bad. As time ticked down, you could see the desperation in the Pens play. Things weren't coming together for them and you had a feeling that it wasn't going to be a birthday that Sid wanted to remember.

"We may end up turning this party into a, congratulations on making the playoffs party for the Canadiens," Carly commented and you had to agree as the puck slid into the empty net, essentially sealing the fate of the Penguins. All that was left was for the horn to sound, and when it did, you grabbed your phone and shot Brandon a text as to what he wanted to do. His reply was to be radio silent, so you were left wondering if you'd be eating that birthday cake alone.

About an hour later, your phone buzzed. Party's a no go. Sid is pissed.

"Well, looks like this party is over before it even started."

"All this work," Carly sighed.

"I hear you, Car, but I wouldn't be in a mood to party if I just lost my ticket to the Stanley Cup Playoffs." These guys were probably down in the dumps, then again maybe not. A lot of them had families that they seemed to want to get home to, so maybe they were looking at this as a blessing. All you knew, is that now that the Pens were moving out, the next top-seeded team would be moving in and you needed to get the transitioning team ready to go for when they left. After taking down the decorations with Carly, you went to find out when the Pens would be leaving and what their exit plan was. It was obvious to you when they'd put the top-seeded teams in your hotel, that they planned on them staying awhile, so having them move out so soon, wasn't something you were prepared for. People would have to be shifted around so that rooms could be ready hours after they left. You reworked the schedule to make all of this happen and hadn't even noticed the Pens come into the hotel.

It was hours later when most of the hotel was quiet that you realized there was something you had to do. Making your way back up to the restaurant, you found the birthday cake that had been specially made for Sidney. You cut a large piece and placed a candle on it. Taking it to Sid's room was a risk, but you couldn't let his birthday go without notice. He answered your knock fairly quickly, though didn't look pleased at all. You pasted on a bright smile before saying, "So I couldn't let the day pass without at least saying Happy Birthday." You held the cake out towards him.

"Thanks," he answered, a small lop-sided grin on his face. "Not really a birthday I want to remember."

"I get that," you answered, now noticing that his suitcase was on his bed and that he must have been packing to go home. "Well, I just wanted to drop this off." He took the cake out of your hand and this awkwardness came over both of you. It was nothing like it was the other night with him. "Well…um…take care Sid." Turning, you headed towards the elevators, somewhat expecting Sid to call you back. As you pressed the button, you heard his door shut and knew that wasn't going to happen. At least you had a little fun with him, you told yourself as you headed up to your suite for the night. He had every right to be upset; you weren't exactly sure what you were expecting when you knocked on the door but it is what it is, you thought as you headed inside. You took off your blazer, setting it on the chair before heading over to the bar to pour yourself a glass of wine before heading off to bed when you heard the knock on the door.

You were half annoyed as you made your way to the door. Now that you were reconciled to a night alone, all you wanted to do was crawl into bed and go to sleep. "Sid?" To say you were shocked when you opened the door was putting it mildly. "Is something wrong?"

"Yeah," he breathed out, and you raised your brow in question. "This piece of cake is too big for one person. I thought maybe you'd want to share it with me?"

"Oh…um…sure." He gave you a little smile and opened the door wider for him to come in. He followed you over to the couch, the two of you sitting down.

"So, did you really have a cake made for me?"

"Yeah." Well, there was no point in saying you didn't, when the piece you'd cut for him had his name on it. "Speaking of which, hold on one second." You dashed into the kitchen then came back out with a match to light the candle. Singing a quick happy birthday to Sid, you then said, "Make a wish." He thought about it for a second then blew the candle out. "I know it's not the birthday you thought it would be." It had to be hard to go from celebrating with the cup two years in a row to now being eliminated in the qualifying rounds.

"I'd be lying if I said it was. I never thought I'd play a hockey game on my birthday, let alone lose that game. It's definitely one I want to forget about." He seemed to think about what he just said, for he quickly added, "well maybe not all of it."

The night was still young, so you were anxious to see if you could maybe turn this birthday around for him. "I should've gotten another fork." You made a move to get up but he stopped you with a hand on your thigh.

"I think we can share." Sid dipped the fork into the cake then fed you the piece. Of course, it was delicious, but you were more focused on the man who was feeding you than the actual cake itself.

"Mmm," you hummed as you enjoyed the sugary treat and you watched as Sid's tongue darted out to lick his lips. Grabbing the fork from him, you proceeded to feed him a piece as well. "You probably should've gotten the first bite."

He hummed his approval as well, the sound sending a rush of heat to your core. "I'd rather have a bite of something else." As soon as the words left his mouth, his hand was at the back of your neck pulling you towards him where his lips were on yours. The kiss wasn't tentative, it was full-on heat from the moment you touched. Each of you yearning for the other. Vaguely, you remember setting the cake down on the coffee table, so that you could reach up and wrap your arms around Sid's neck, pulling yourself closer to him. You felt yourself melting into him and the couch as he guided you back against the cushions.

His body lay heavily on top of yours but you welcomed the weight, as you both shifted trying to seek more contact with each other. Sid's hand glided down your body, and he scrunched your skirt up to your hips so that his body could fit between your legs. He continued to devour your mouth, and you felt like you were back in high school making out on your parent's sofa. His hands roamed up your body, untucking your shirt so he could glide them up to feel your breasts. Sid rolled your covered nipple between his thumb and forefinger; your back arching up into his touch as you moaned into the kiss.

His lips finally broke from yours, so you could both catch your breath. "We could move this upstairs," you suggested.

"I like that idea," he answered capturing your lips again briefly before easing off the couch and helping you up. When you adjusted your skirt back down he just cocked his head at you with a little smirk on his face. "Did you think that was necessary?"

"Depends on if you want a show or not?"

"There are options?" That was sort of a loaded question you weren't sure you wanted to answer.

"Aren't there always?" You were at the top of the stairs then and his hands grabbed you around the waist and hauled you close to him so that you were nose to nose.

"There's a lot of questions going on here, maybe we should just quit talking."

He gave you a full ten seconds to answer before crushing your mouth to his. Before you knew it, you were in your bedroom. His hands were all over you and you couldn't get enough of it, but you were also doing your share of touching every exposed inch of his body. The last time the two of you were together, he'd maintained this cool composure as he'd gotten you off on his thigh while remaining completely clothed. You weren't going to miss the opportunity this time to see Sidney on his birthday in his birthday suit. Gathering his shirt in your hands, you broke from the kiss to lift it off his body. The man was simply perfection, as your nails raked across his abs. He shivered at your touch but then thrust into your hips letting you know that he wanted you just as much as you did him.

Sid's hands were at the back of your skirt, searching for the zipper until he found it and slid it down so you could shimmy out of the garment. He wasn't satisfied with just getting you out of that though, as he all but tore your shirt from your body. You could swear that you heard the seam rip, but you didn't care. He held you at arms-length then, drinking in the sight of you clad only in your bra and thong. "Mmm, you're the best present I've unwrapped today." He hummed out in appreciation as he stared at you.

You blushed at the compliment that rolled off his tongue, before taking a deep breath to regain your composure. "You still have more to unwrap."

"So it seems," he chuckled and then turned your body so that your back was to him as he unhooked your bra. "Have to make it last," he whispered in your ear, as his lips dropped to the hollow of your neck. Your head fell back against him, rolling to the side to give him greater access as you enjoyed the feel of his mouth hot on you. One strap slid down your shoulder, the bra just barely hanging on until he slithered the other one down with it. You could feel his eyes on your breasts as he sucked on your neck, a groan coming from him as his cock pressed into your back. "Beautiful," he breathed out over the spot where he'd just been nibbling, and it was your turn to shiver as the sensation of both hot and cold had goose pimples rising on your flesh. His hands snaked up your sides so he could cup your breasts, toying with your nipples and making them pebble under his touch. You ached to feel his lips there, but Sid took his time, just tweaking and pinching.

His right hand traveled south to your core, as he snuck his hand inside the thin material of your panties; fingers massaging just above your clit. You wanted, no, you needed more. Your hips flexing of their own accord, silently begging him to venture further down. When he did finally touch your clit, you moaned out in pleasure, but Sid didn't stay there long. His fingers slipped between your folds, just running back and forth not entering you. "You're dripping." He turned your head to capture your lips in a short kiss. "Are you always like this or just for me?"

You knew he was looking for his ego to be stroked a bit and you were willing to fondle more than that. "Only for you," you moaned out, as your hand snuck back to rub his cock through his shorts.

"Not yet baby. It's my birthday remember." You nodded weakly, as his fingers played with your pussy. "Take off your panties and lie down on the bed for me." You followed his command, ridding yourself of the flimsy material before climbing onto the mattress, and situating yourself amongst the pillows. "Spread your legs for me princess." Sid had a spell on you, and so you obeyed his orders. "Wider baby, let me see how wet you are." His eyes were riveted to your cunt, which was soaking by this point and only grew wetter under his intense scrutiny. "I seem to recall only getting a taste of that cake downstairs. I wonder if you're as sweet as it was." Sid crawled onto the bed then, positioning himself between your thighs, before grabbing your hips and hauling them towards him. His eyes held yours as his tongue snuck out for that first taste of you. "Mmm, I thinking I need more." He was lapping at your folds and drinking in your juices, while you fisted the sheets from the pleasure of his tongue. Your moans filling the air of the room. "So sweet," he hummed against your pussy, before nibbling on your clit and causing your hips to buck up. His strong arm held you still as he ate you out, alternating between thrusting his tongue inside you and flicking it over your clit.

"Sid, please," you begged, but he kept you teetering on the edge. "Fuck." He slid one finger inside you, your pussy clenching around it. "Oh god," you groaned out at the feel of him. His mouth was solely focused on your clit now that one finger just pumping in and out of you, and you felt your orgasm start to build. It wasn't long before it crested, and wash over you, your body arching up into his mouth. "Sid," you moaned out as you came.

"You're so beautiful when you cum," he panted as his finger slid out of you. "Open," he demanded as he brought that same finger to your lips. You sucked on it, tasting yourself as you ran your tongue around his digit. "Fuck princess, you do that so well." His finger popped out of your mouth, before he said, "how about you try sucking on something else." When you licked your lips in anticipation, he captured them in a searing kiss, then rolled your bodies so that you were laying on top of him. You broke the kiss, then wiggled down his body, trailing kisses on his chest and abdomen as you went. When you got to the waistband, you ran your fingers underneath it, your tongue following your movements as you shimmied his shorts down his legs. Your nails skated up the inside of his bare thighs as his cock sprang free. Taking your tongue, you licked up the underside of his dick before taking the head inside your mouth. He sighed in contentment and his hand reached down to thread through your locks, gently urging you to take more of him. As you sank down inch by slow inch on his cock, Sid groaned with pleasure. "That's it, princess, take me in deep." Sid's thighs weren't the only thing that was thick on him as your mouth took as much of him inside as you could. Slipping your one hand around the base, you pumped what you couldn't fit in, as your jaw worked up and down on the length of him. "Fuck princess, you are so good." You hummed under his praise, the vibrations going through his body had him fisting his hand in your hair. His hips thrust up into your face, making you gag slightly before they moved back down on the mattress. You cupped his balls, giving them a gentle squeeze as you hollowed out your cheeks only to release him with a pop. Running your tongue down his length, you licked at his balls before sucking them. "Jesus," he hissed out, while your hand pumped his erection up and down. Sid gathered your hair at the nape of your neck so he could watch you. "So beautiful," he praised and you moved back up to take him inside your mouth once again. Sounds of sucking and slurping filled the room as your head bobbed up and down on his cock. His balls tensed, right before he pulled you off of him. "Fuck…as much as I want to cum in that pretty little mouth of yours; I'm not ready for the night to be over just yet."

He dragged your body up flush with his so he could kiss you again and he rolled you both one more time. His tongue exploring your mouth with languid strokes, that made you want to kiss him for days on end, but then you felt his dick nudging at your entrance and your body craved him more. As he pressed into your dripping cunt, your leg snaked around his waist, pulling him in closer. "So eager," he breathed out, making eye contact with you until he was buried deep inside you. You'd never felt so full before. Sid's hip thrust just centimeters more into you, his cock hitting deep within your core and you felt stretched beyond compacity. "Is that what you wanted?" Feebly, you nodded a yes. "Words, princess?"

"Yes, Sid…yes," you were panting now with need. Your body aching for him to move. Thankfully he didn't make you beg any longer as he started a slow thrust in and out of your pussy. Sid's mouth moved down your neck, to your breasts, where he took one turret nipple into his mouth and playfully bit down on it. The effect went straight to your cunt, as you could feel the wetness now dripping down to your ass. Yet he continued his slow pace of pumping into you. "Please, Sid…" you begged wanting more. Sid wasn't to be deterred though and continued the rhythm he enjoyed, toying with your nipples as you moaned out in ecstasy.

He was building you slowly up, just gradually bringing you to the edge. You felt your legs start to tense, only to have Sid pull his cock out completely. "On your knees baby." You did his bidding, eager to find that release your body desired. His hands roamed around the globes of your ass, softly caressing it as he pushed back into you. Once he was fully inside, you pushed back against him. "Easy princess," his words on had you repeating the motion until you felt his hand smack hard on your ass. You yelped in surprise, even though the sting sent a rush of sensation to where you both were connected. His hand soothed your bottom, before delivering another blow. This time you moaned, enjoying the bite his hand brought. "You like that, don't you princess?"

"Mmmhmm," you whimpered as he smacked the other side this time.

Finally, Sid started to thrust in and out of your soaking pussy. Every so often spanking you as he went. You could feel your body just hovering on the edge of orgasm, but yet not being able to get there. Sid took a fistful of your hair, yanking you back as he started to pound in and out of you. You were so close. "Are you going to cum for me princess?" An incoherent noise let your lips and even you couldn't tell if it was a yes or a no. Wanting to bring you pleasure, Sid's hand snuck to your clit, where he rubbed your little nub furiously. You started to tremble, and he yanked your hair harder. "Look at me, princess." You turned to see him, right before your climax hit. Your pussy walls contracting around him and pulling him even deeper inside. You called out his name and then he wildly thrust in and out of your body until he came with a loud groan. Sid fell on top of you, your arms collapsing from your orgasm and the weight of him. Only when you both dropped to the mattress did he roll onto his side, taking you with. "Fuck, I needed that."

His hands caressed your body, just a feather-light touch that calmed you both as you floated back to reality. "Me too," you mumbled as his cock slipped out of you. Turning so that you could face him, you cupped his cheek, only noticing then, that he'd shaved his playoff beard off already. "I know it doesn't make up for the loss but I hope you enjoyed that present."

His signature lop-sided grin appeared on his face. "More than you know." His hands now rubbing your ass where he had spanked you. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

A light chuckle escaped your mouth. "No, I enjoyed it."

"Mmm, me too." His hand that was making circles on your ass stopped and you felt him pulling away, only you didn't want him to. This opportunity would probably never happen again and you wanted to enjoy it just a little longer.

"Stay," you found yourself saying and you weren't a hundred percent sure as to why. Every other fling you'd had in this damn hotel had been just that, a quick mating of two people and as soon as it was over, you left or asked them to. But this right here with Sid, something was different. Your mind told you that nothing would ever come of this. That Sid would go on his way back to Pittsburgh or Cole Harbour and go on with things, just as you would here, but you wanted to savor this moment just a little longer.

"Are you sure?" you nodded yes to his question, as you didn't trust your voice at the moment. "Well since you insist." His lips captured yours again, this time the kiss soft and sweet, and you were back to being those two high school kids that were on the couch in the first blush of love. It was not something you wanted to dwell on as you felt your heart give way to this man. When you finally broke apart, the smile on his face had you half falling in love with him. "Sleep, and then we can have another round before I have to leave."

You hated that last part, why did it have to be this way. If only the Pens had won, you thought, but then would you be in this position right now if they had? Would Sid have kept you at arm's length focusing solely on hockey? Your mind ran through a million scenarios, all of them ending the same way and so you told yourself that this was just a fascination with one of hockey's elite players and that the moment he was gone you'd move on. By the time you finally got your racing thoughts under control, Sid was fast asleep. He looked so peaceful as if he didn't have a care in the world and you supposed now that his season was over, he didn't. But the season was still going on for sixteen other teams and you. You needed to focus on them.

Reaching over, you grabbed your phone to check the time, only to notice you'd missed a call and several text messages from Tyler. Tyler, you thought with a wistful sigh. You still had that bet with him. Technically, you'd won for here you were, your body sated from its activities with Sidney. You looked back over at the man, who was sleeping with his arms wrapped around your body. Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, you decided to snap the picture that would prove as evidence of what had transpired tonight, then you hurriedly set the phone back on the nightstand. Now the only question was, did you send it to Tyler or just keep it as a memory to look back on for years to come.

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sweetdreamhellofanight · 4 years ago

Text

Diamonds and Rust

Tyler Rust x Reader Warnings: None Word Count: 1,364 Summary: We both know what memories can bring, they bring diamonds and rust

The bed dips beside you, creaking and groaning, and you wait.

You tell him he needs a new mattress, and he promises you he’ll pick one out as soon as he has a day off, but he has yet to make good on that promise.

First was the brush of his hair over your arms, damp, ice cold drops of water leaving goosebumps over your skin.

Then came his arm, snaking its way under yours, around your waist, pulling you close. Warmer than his hair, holding you tight.

Then came the tip of his nose, pressing into your neck with the softest press of his lips, tickling you until you couldn’t hide it anymore, and sigh into it.

“You’re home,” you say, bringing one arm up around him.

“Later than I thought, but I’m here,” he whispers.

You turn over, lying on your back and looking up at him.

He had shaved, and as you ran a gentle hand over his cheeks, you realize you miss the beard, despite making so much fun of it.

He’s soft and warm after his shower, fresher than you’d seen him in days, but the bags under his eyes seem deeper than before.

“How long?” you ask.

He smiles and shakes his head,

“Just enough,” he replies, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“Hungry?” you ask. He shakes his head, burying it in your chest and sighing into you,

“Not right now.”

You comb your fingers through his hair, undoing the knots as gently as you can as he falls asleep.

Two weeks apart.

Back for another two days at most.

Gone again for a month.

Rinse.

Repeat.

You love him, and that is enough.

At least that’s what you tell yourself.

***

The mattress is new, it’s comfortable, and you sink into it as you fall asleep. Your back doesn’t ache in the mornings anymore, and it doesn’t take you an hour to find the right position on it.

But still, you stay up later and later, fighting off sleep as though waiting for something.

Something you know won’t come.

There’s no more creaking of bed springs as he slides in beside you.

There’s no more damp hair on your bare skin, or knots to untangle.

There’s no more one word answers and soft breathing to lull you to sleep.

There’s no more Tyler and no more you beside him to anchor him.

The bed is comfortable, but you can’t relax into it anymore.

Perhaps time will fix that.

***

You don’t hear from him. You don’t expect to.

You see his name from time to time, only when someone else shows you. Your heart twists and turns and you’re not sure what to say except

“I’m happy for him.”

It’s not a lie.

You tell yourself it’s not a lie.

But the ache inside you grows and grows each time you see his name.

You lay awake running his name over your tongue, like a spell to bring him back.

But it doesn’t.

It never does.

Still, your hand goes to the other side of a bed he never shared with you, wondering what it would feel like to have him beside you.

Some nights you can feel him, just for a moment, pulling the covers back, feeling the tickle of his breath against your neck, the ghost of his lips on your skin.

But you open your eyes to a dark and empty room, and you remember.

Remember how he tried to hug you as he left and how you didn’t move.

You remember how he looked at you, the finality of it all washing over him for the first time as he handed you the spare key.

You remember how he paused, just over the threshold, hand sliding off the doorknob, taking a deep breath and stepping outside.

You remember how he left like he always did, quietly and quickly, as painless as possible.

But it weighs on you, still, and grows heavier as the years pass by.

Your mattress is worn out and creaks again, but it does not bring him back.

It’s a silly reason to keep a worn out mattress, but you wonder if it just might work.

***

You move around, it comes with work.

You’ve moved on, you’ve made peace with your past, and are happy once more.

But traces of him still exist around you, memories you can’t bear to part with just yet.

A picture of you two at the mountain’s top, dizzy and cold and flushed, smiling bright and satisfied.

The earrings he’d gotten you for your birthday, still in their box, collecting dust left untouched.

The blanket he’d forgotten when he left, thrown down on the floor in the middle of the night, kicked under the bed in his shuffle to leave, now wrapped around you on a cold night as you watched the snow fall outside your window.

He’s gone.

You’ve made peace with it.

You’ve rid yourself of rusted memories that don’t mean anything anymore.

But still, you wash that blanket, patch up the holes, fold it neatly and leave it at the edge of your bed every morning.

It’s your blanket now. If he wanted it he would have asked for it then, you tell yourself.

Your mattress is wearing out, but the blanket makes it easier to fall asleep.

Your back hurts in the morning, but you wake up warm and you tell yourself that’s what matters.

***

His hair is long again, healthier, too.

His eyes don’t catch yours, but you know they’re just as green as they were the first time you met him.

His smile is forced, his laugh is short and polite, he stands rigid and tall above everyone else, uncomfortable around them and you know all he wants is to leave.

You stay in the corner for most of the event, watching the others greet him, introduce themselves, and receive the same rehearsed spiel as the last person.

Your back hurts, still. A new mattress is on its way, but you’re not sure it matters. The blanket is fading and fraying, you’re not sure it’ll last the end of the month, but it doesn’t matter anymore.

Slowly, you walk into his line of sight, watching him for some sign of...acknowledgement. Watching for something you’re not sure will come.

But you see his shoulders relax, you see his plastered on smile fade and his eyes soften.

You see him shed the persona he’s put on for the others.

You see Tyler, once again.

You don’t say anything to each other, not openly, not in front of the others.

But you know what he means when he drops his hands to his sides.

You know what he means when runs his hands through his hair and looks down at the ground.

And he knows what you mean when you push your hair back and let the light reflect off the earrings you hadn’t worn until today.

***

The mattress is new, it takes time for you to settle into it.

It creaks underneath you and dips as you settle in.

But the ends of his hair brush against your bare skin, his arms pull you close against his chest, and the new mattress learns the shapes of your bodies together, once more.

You keep your eyes open and learn that this isn’t a memory come to life, not like before. You don’t have to concentrate hard to feel the warmth of his body pressed against yours.

You don’t have to fight off sleep to imagine his hands running through your hair.

The bed is soft and warm, even without the blanket.

He kicks it off the bed without a second thought, and you watch the frayed edges and fading color fall to the floor, but it doesn’t matter anymore.

Because now, you watch him over you, wrapped in his warmth, and you think you’ll never need a blanket again.

He keeps his eyes locked with yours, and you know this is a new start for both of you.

You two fall back into step with one another, but this time is different.

This time, it’s a promise.

This time, it’s forever.

#nxt fanfiction #tyler rust #tyler rust x reader #my writing #me? writing and posting another story at 3 am that no one asked for? it's more likely than you think #****

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notagamersdey · 3 years ago

Text

The Dream

Painting by: Henri Rousseau

Photo (2021) and Story By Tyler D. Ortiz

Rating: T

Word Count: 2k~

Warnings: bad language, panic attacks

A/N: So this story is inspired by the Pedro Pascal episode of the podcast Talk Art (31:14-34:15). Go check that out if you want to hear some fun stories by the hosts and pp.

Summary: Matias, after losing his chance to act in a popular TV show, is taken to the Museum of Modern Art by his sister where he realizes he has nothing to lose.

~~~

Today, I’m supposed to meet my sister Lyanna here at East Village Pizza. She said it was a special treat for getting my first “big” role on Law & Order. When I told her the news, she had jumped up for joy, squealing my ear off. It wasn’t a big deal, just another job for the bills, but she was adamant that this job was a life changer. She’s says that about every job.

I came to the pizza parlor early, grabbing my favorite seat in front of the window. We normally sat here when we came because it gave us the perfect view of cold, angry New Yorkers. I had ordered our pizza, waiting for her to arrive when my phone starts to buzz.

I open it up and put it against my ear, holding it with my shoulder, “This is Matias.”

“Matias, I'm sorry to tell you…” Fuck, “…but we’ve decided to go in a different direction...” It’s the fucking casting director, droning on, saying those same fucking words, “You have wonderful talent.,” “You didn’t fit the director's vision.,” etcetera. Etcetera. ETCETERA. It's all movie-talk for “You weren't good enough.”

Grabbing the scruff behind my neck, I slammed my phone shut and stuffing it into my jacket pocket. What the hell was I going to do now? Three hundred bucks – gone in an instant.

“Here’s your order, Sir,” A waiter places the small pizza in front of me, and you know, today was one of the rare days I was able to scrounge enough money to afford the luxury of a decent slice of pizza, and now I can’t even enjoy it.

“God dammit,” It’s moments like these when memories of my father came hit me like a freight train. He used to berate me about goals and aspirations, telling me, “It’s never going to happen, Matias,” and “It’s not a job. You won’t get anywhere with that.” In high school, I used to constantly fight with him, telling him my dreams were achievable. That I would succeed as an actor. He would laugh in my face; tell me they were unobtainable. I mean... Maybe he was right.

Now, I’m living in one of the most expensive cities with over 300,000 dollars in debt, 40 bucks to my name, and a dead-beat waiter job at Planet Hollywood that barely pays for food let alone the bills. I have no back-up plan, no emergency fund. I just had my bachelor's degree in acting, which won't pay for shit.

I shake my head. My neck and back start to ache, an oncoming migraine sitting on my temples.

Matias, the fuck do you want to do that for?

Matias, you’re not good enough.

Matias, you will always be alone.

I stand to leave, throwing the untouched pizza in the trash on my way out the door. The cold winter air bites at my nose when I step outside. I pull my scarf up closer to my neck and make my way down East 9th Street.

Leaving the restaurant doesn’t help. Hopelessness rushes over me like a tsunami. The texture of the wool sweater underneath my jacket scratched annoyingly at the exposed skin on my wrists. It’s a cold wintery day but I feel incredibly hot underneath the layers. A nervous sweat builds underneath my beanie. Everyone’s staring, I know it. They know I've failed yet again. They know I’m just a naïve child.

His voice repeats in my head like a tornado siren, yelling, screaming at me, “You will not survive.”

You will not make an income.

You will not have healthcare.

You are setting yourself up for failure.

…You will die- My phone starts to buzz again. I really want to fucking ignore it but if it’s Lyanna, she’d have every cop in the city on my ass within the hour.

“Hey.” I cough, trying to clear my throat. Act normal.

“Mat! I’m sorry I’m late, I’m-” She sounds like she’s running.

“Actually, Sis, I left…” I stop in the middle of the pavement, getting shoved and cursed at by the impetuous crowd around me.

“What? Why?” Her concerned voice seeps through the phone. Suddenly, heat shoots up my back. She’s going to be upset.

I move off to the side, leaning up against a wall of graffiti, “I didn’t get the job after all.”

I hear her let out a breath, “Different direction?” She asks, knowingly.

I nod, “Yea... said I could act the part, but I didn’t fit the type of Latino they were going for... whatever the hell that means.” I spit out, bitterly.

“Means they’re bigoted.” I can hear the annoyed twinge in her voice.

“Yea... probably...” Lyanna stays quiet. “Hey... So, I’m not really up for doing anything... Can we just go home?”

“Umm...” She hums, clicking her tongue, “No.”

“Lyanna...” Please.

“No, no, I’m serious, I know you. Once you get home you're going to sulk in your room for days. Let's bypass the self-pity and go have fun. Take your mind off it.”

I’m silent for a moment, feeling my anxiety subside as I focus on her words, “What do I get if your wrong?”

“A fresh slice of cheese pizza to replace the one you probably threw away...” She laughs, “Now, how ‘bout MoMA?”

“Sure… MoMA sounds good.”

I’ve always found it difficult to find the Museum of Modern Art. The only way anyone would be able to tell where this museum was is with the three bright red banners hanging off the side of the building holding their acronym in an even darker shade of red. This was basically every building in New York so, of course, I pass right by it. Lyanna managed to catch me before I got too far. She runs up to me and immediately linked her arm into mine.

“Hey stranger, took you long enough.” She greats, warmly.

“You know how it is.”

“Oh common, where’s that smile? We are celebrating!” She starts to pull me into the museum, warm air painting my face when she opens one of the doors.

“Celebrating a failure.”

“Celebrating life.”

We walk in and are bombarded with hordes of people packed in front of every corner of the room. It's as if every single person visiting New York had decided that they would all collectively visit the museum on this specific day. Maybe they were having an event. People of all shapes and sizes were packed in front of each art piece, creating a thick barrier preventing outsiders from looking in on their beauty. In the corner of the room is a balloon man handing out replicas of Jeff Koon’s Balloon Dog to children. I clench my teeth at the disgusting sound of rubber and latex rubbing together. I feel a hot prickling in my neck at the sight of a child squeezing the neck of their bright metallic green Balloon Dog, another child on the edge of crying as she violently hit her blue Balloon Dog onto her stroller seat.

Someone bumps into me. I feel myself tense up. Don’t touch me. I take my arms away from Lyanna, hiding them in my pockets. Lyanna looks up at me, “Hey, are you okay?”

Fuck no,“Yes.”

“You sure? You seem tense,” she raises her eyebrow.

“No. No... I'm good... There’s just.” Act normal, “A lot of people.”

“Well, if you’re sure...” Everyone is breathing my air - of course I’m not sure. “You wanna start off this way then make our way around?” she asks pointing to her left. I nod.

She guides me to the fifth floor, to our first painting. Shes pushing through the crowds so we could get a closer look. It’s a dark painting with a black, shadowy silhouette of an elephant trudging on an upwards incline. The air around him grey, as if he was pushing through a sandstorm. He is struggling to get to wherever he was headed. I’m suddenly pushed closer to the struggling elephant. Lyanna snaps at someone behind me. A balloon pop’s. A child's scream echo around the room. The dark clouds surrounding the elephant fill my edge of my vision as my eyes zoom into the lonely elephant. My throat begins to close. My heart hurts. A voice in my head whispers “You’re dying. You’re dying.” in a joyous chant. I try to breathe but nothing can get through. My hands prickle. My chest stutters. The elephant fades. Only the shadowing and silhouettes of people fill my vision. I still feel the pain in my throat, as I try to breath in air.

Lyanna speaks but her voice is muffled. The darkness that had overtaken my vision slowly fades away. I sit up straight, feeling the soft leather beneath me, becoming aware of my surroundings. We are in different exhibit. It's completely empty. I shift, feeling the leather bench beneath my finger tips. The silence is soothing.

“You feeling better?” Lyanna sits next to me with a cup of water in her hands, causing the leather beneath creaked.

I close my eyes. God. She grabs at my hand but I pull away. Please go away. I can feel her eyes burning into my soul. It’s unbearable. I turn away from her. Please go away. She grips at the cup tightly. The crunch of the cup is excruciating.

“Matias.” She attempts to grab my hand again. I see it coming from a mile away. Like in slow motion. The closer she got, the more I dreaded the contact.

“Fuck! Stop! Can you please just give me a God damn minute?” I stand up trying to get away.

“What is happening?” She’s mad. You’ve ruined everything.

“I don’t want to be fucking touched, Lyanna. Just stop. Stop everything. Leave me alone.” I’m staring at the floor. If I look at her, I’m going to lose it. Shameful. Embarrassing.

“I’m only trying to help.” You’re an embarrassment.

“You’re not!” She’s going to never going to forgive you.

“Okay…” She stands slowly, “Let’s relax for a moment… I’ll be back in a few minutes… Just text me if you need anything.” I don’t say anything while she walks away, the sound of her shoes fading. I sit back down onto the chair, head in my hands.

I take a few deep breaths, focusing on the ground beneath me. The floor is smooth, my hair is soft and messy, the pressure of my elbows on my knees grow. My eyes leave the floor only to be met with a flood of green. A naked woman waking up on a large red couch in the middle of a jungle. Light green paints the leaves towards the bottom of the canvas and becomes darker going up towards the sky. The bright flowers burst up in different directions as the moon peaks through the canopy. The woman is surrounded by hidden animals. I spot a few hidden tigers, a white bird on the top left, a person hidden in the shadows playing an instrument, a few monkeys in the trees and an elephant beyond the trees staring back at me. It was a paradise. So sure of herself, she sits there facing away from me as if she has nothing to lose. She sits unafraid of the world around her.

I can’t relate. I’ll never get my chance. I’ll never not be afraid. I continue to stare at her, trying to understand what she may have done differently. Maybe she kept going. Maybe she stopped caring. Or maybe someone gave her a chance. Whatever she did must’ve worked because she continues to sit as if she has nothing left to lose –

“Henri Rousseau’s The Dream,” I jump. Lyanna stands on my right, staring at the painting with a hand on her hip, “Most people hate this painting.”

“I don’t see why…”

“Eh… Everybody has their own opinions…” She approaches cautiously, “Do you feel any better?”

I nod. “S-sorry,” I look back to the painting, “I just needed a moment to myself.”

“Don’t apologize… I should’ve… I don’t know, been more mindful, I guess.” She sits down next to me. I can see her hesitate before she puts a hand on my shoulder, “Are you going to be okay?”

I don’t answer at first. I look back at the painting. The Dream she called it. Maybe, this was the woman’s dream. Maybe she is like me. Our chances will arise. She strives towards her peace with nature around her as I strive for success in the asphalt jungle. Just as she has nothing left to lose, I, too, have nothing to lose. We are the same.

“Yea… I think I will be.”

~~~

Thank you so much for reading! Let me know what you think! Let me know if I missed a tag or a warning.

Masterlist || Taglist Form || Youtube || Redbubble

Till Next Time!

-Dey

#my writing #short story #short fiction #inspiration #talk art #henri rousseau #The Dream #Pedro Pascal #tw panic attack #Museum of Modern Art #I could taste the pizza #new york #original writing #original story #original fiction

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thebluenoteblog · 5 years ago

Text

and i will give you everything | part two

Summary: You met Tyler in a bar and spent the night together. Though you had no idea who he was, just looking at him had your brain screaming ‘run’. Little did you know that first night was just the beginning of a much longer story you would share with him.

Player: Tyler Seguin

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: Smut

You woke up slowly, coming to your senses, first realizing that you were in a room that was not your own. Second, realizing that there was a set of arms wrapped tightly around your waist and a face buried between your shoulder blades. You looked down at the offending arms, strong and tattooed. Everything from the night before came flooding back.

Beer and people watching and darts, ping pong and fireball, an almost kiss then an actual kiss. You sighed and stretched out your legs, noticing that you were a little sore. The arms around you tightened and the face between your shoulder blades nuzzled into your back before they loosened again. You glanced over your shoulder to see that Tyler was still sound asleep.

If you wanted to sneak out and call an Uber, now would be the time to do it. However, you didn’t know if you would be able to get out of his arms without waking him up and you didn’t want to get caught sneaking out after he’d asked you to spend the night. You laid your head back on the pillow and sighed, resigning yourself to the awkward morning that you were about to have.

He would wake up any time now, come up with some excuse about why he was busy and then he would take you back to your car and you would never see him again. You decided that maybe that was the best-case scenario.

Again, Tyler shifted behind you. This time he inhaled deeply and made a noise somewhere between a groan and a sigh. A moment later his head popped up over your shoulder to peak at your face and he startled a bit when he was met with your open eyes. “Morning,” you said quietly. Awkwardly.

He shifted again, scooting away from you and rolling you over onto your back. “Morning,” he said.

You nodded, “I should probably get dressed and head out.”

“What’s the rush?” He asked, his hand toying with the hem of the t-shirt resting on your thighs. “I don’t have to be anywhere until noon. It’s only nine.”

You blinked at him a few times. This wasn’t what you’d expected at all and when he looked up at you, wide eyed, you could tell that he couldn’t believe that the words had come out of his mouth either. Danger. You pressed your lips together while you thought of how best to respond, his fingers now dancing along the inside of your thigh.

“I don’t know,” you said, “I have some things to do today.”

He looked up at you from where his head rested on the pillow, the side of his index finger rubbing against you. “Are you sure it can’t wait?”

You should say no. You should say that this was life or death and you had to leave right this second. You should jump out of bed, get dressed and run before anything else happened. That being said, you were finding it really hard to say no to him when he was looking up at you with an arm folded under his head and his hair curled around his face. “I guess it can wait a little longer.”

He grinned and stroked his fingers through your folds, “Already wet?” He asked.

You shrugged, “Don’t be so proud of yourself. I was having a pretty nice dream.”

He laughed and slid a finger inside of you. Your lips parted, and you sucked in a breath. He grinned and added another finger, curling them inside of you when you didn’t moan. He got the response he wanted with that action. He pulled the covers back off of you and pushed the t-shirt up over your hips.

You had never put on any underwear the night before and he made quick use of this, continuing to pump his fingers into you as he pushed your legs apart and settled between your thighs. He looked up at you as he lowered his head to your clit and circled it with the tip of his tongue. Your hand flew to his hair, holding his face to you, “Oh, god.”

He hummed in appreciation against you and continued a steady pace with both his fingers and his tongue. You tugged his hair, grinding yourself up into his face and pushing yourself onto his fingers in an effort to get him to speed up. He chuckled and kept the same speed.

Slowly, very, very slowly, he brought you to the edge. You stayed there for a long time, clawing at his hair, begging him to let you cum, “God, Tyler. Please. I’m so close. Please let me cum.”

Finally, he sucked hard on your clit and picked up the pace of his fingers, stroking the spot that made you see stars and you came hard. You pulled his hair, hard. Harder than you probably should have and dug your heals into his back as you arched off the bed.

He stroked you through your orgasm and then pulled his mouth away and his fingers out of you. He brought them to your mouth slid them between your lips. You ran your tongue between his fingers, massaging his fingertips, tasting every bit of yourself and watching his eyes darken even further as you did. When he’d had enough of being teased, he pulled his fingers out of your mouth with a pop and moved to the nightstand to grab a condom. He pulled his boxers off in a swift motion and they were on the floor in a second.

You watched his muscles flex under his tattoos as he rolled on the condom and shifted back between your legs. Impatiently, he pushed the t-shirt up above your breasts, but paid them no more attention before he was pushing himself inside of you.

You groaned and reached up to grab his forearm, beside your head on the pillow and you hooked your leg around his waist. He pushed himself all the way inside of you then paused and grabbed your leg from around his waist and brought it up on his shoulder. He gripped your other thigh and pushed it flat against the mattress, then started to move.

He hit so deep from this angle that you abandoned your hold on his arm and threw your hands up to his chest, you dug your nails in and he hissed but didn’t stop you. You couldn’t keep your eyes open, they drifted shut and you could feel another orgasm building. You reached down between your bodies to rub your clit and he groaned, “Fuck, that’s hot.”

You peaked your eyes open to see him focused intently on your hand. He leaned back as he fucked you for a better view, effectively ensuring that with every thrust he hit your g-spot perfectly. It was only a few more seconds before you were cuming. “That’s it, come on my cock,” he said, keeping the same steady pace that had sent you over the edge.

When you came down, he dropped his hands on the pillow, leaning over you with his eyes closed and your legs still folded on his shoulders. He fucked into you hard, his rhythm was becoming unsteady and the tips of his cheeks and ears were flushed.

You wanted to reach out and touch them. To see if they were as warm to the touch as they looked. You wanted to brush the sweat slicked hair back off of his forehead. You didn’t though, you just laid there and moaned his name until he dropped his head onto your chest, breathing heavily.

Now he had gotten what he wanted. Now it was time for you to leave.

“Breakfast?” He asked, “We can grub hub it. I think I might have something to cook but that’s a strong maybe.”

You tried your very best to hide your shock. “Breakfast?” You asked him.

“Yeah,” he said, “the meal you eat in the morning. Before you start your day. I’m supposed to eat it. I thought you could join me.”

You furrowed your brows, staring at the ceiling, thankful that his face was still in your tits and he couldn’t see how confused and conflicted you looked. You never should have come here, you knew that. Yet somehow you found yourself saying, “What are you suggesting we order?”

You felt him smile against your skin. It was small, but it was there. Unmistakable. “I’m not set on anything. Whatever you want, I guess.”

“Panera?” You asked, “I’m always down for Panera.”

He groaned into your chest then pushed up off of you, “That’s fine,” he said, “I’m going to go order it. Know what you want?”

You gave him your order and he stood up and headed into the bathroom. You pulled the t-shirt back over your body and attempted to run your fingers through your hair. He came back into the bedroom a couple of minutes later and pulled on his underwear and a pair of sweatpants. “Help yourself to the bathroom,” he said, while looking at the ground with the tips of his cheeks tinged pink he said, “Mouthwash is under the sink.”

“Are you saying my breath smells?” You asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

He opened and closed his mouth then managed to say, “What? No, I was just-,”

“I’m joking Tyler,” you said, “thank you.”

He nodded and retreated from the room, pulling the door closed behind him. You shuffled out of bed and pulled the t-shirt over your head. You were sweaty, and you felt gross and there was nothing you wanted more than to take a shower in that moment, but there was no way that you were going to hop into Tyler’s shower. So, you walked around the room collecting your clothes and putting them on, layer by layer. A sock by the closet door, your jeans halfway under the bed, your shirt by the nightstand.

You actually did use the mouthwash under the sink before you headed downstairs, because you already felt gross and anything that would help with that was welcome. You were really wishing that you had carried your larger purse that held a comb, perfume, and lipstick, but you hadn’t so you were kind of up a creek.

You arrived downstairs and made your way into the kitchen where you could hear commotion. “Calm down boys, I said I’m sorry. I’m getting it now. I’ll give you extra. Well, not you Cash. You don’t need any extra.”

You stepped through the archway and saw him setting three bowls on the floor. All three labs attacked their food like they hadn’t been fed in months. “Do you starve the poor guys?” You asked, walking around the roadblock of dogs.

He huffed, “Ha ha. No. I just forgot to feed them last night. Now they’re mad at me.”

“You forgot to feed your kids?” You asked, eying the black lab as he eyed Gerry’s food.

Tyler stuck his foot between them, “No, Cash. You already ate. Go lay down.” Cash looked up at him, stared for a moment like he thought he could win a battle of wills, then gave up and walked away. Tyler shook his head at you, “It isn’t my fault. You distracted me.”

As if you had the ability to distract a guy like him. He’d probably had hundreds of girls in this house. He probably did this every night. This was just another line. He was a smooth talker, you knew the type.

You raised an eyebrow at him and leaned against the island. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“I slept really well last night,” he said, then his cheeks and the tips of his ears turned a bright shade of pink. He turned around and headed for the refrigerator.

“You blush a lot for a guy who…” you waved a hand at him which was pointless because he was facing away from you.

He grumbled, “Shut up,” under his breath and asked, “do you want something to drink? I have water and juice.”

“Water is fine. Did they say how long the food would be?”

“Not long. It should be here soon.” He grabbed two bottles of water and tossed one to you. You caught it against your chest and he snorted, “Never played baseball?”

“What part of not a sports person did you miss?” You asked, laughing as you opened the water bottle, “In my defense, I did go to a lot of my brother’s hockey games growing up. Maybe that’s why I never had any interest in professional sports. I had to sit through all my brothers’ games.”

Tyler frowned, “Your brother plays hockey?”

“He played through his college team,” you nodded, “Now he just plays for a rec league.”

Tyler nodded, but he was still frowning, he turned to the dogs, “Come on boys, time to go outside.”

You watched from your spot by the island as Tyler left the room with a train of dogs trailing behind him. You waited at the island for him to come back, but before he did, the doorbell rang, and you saw him walk past the archway toward the front door.

You could hear a brief conversation, “Keep the change.”

“Here’s your food.”

“Thanks, have a good one.”

The door closed, and the nosy, curious part of your brain wondered if he tipped delivery boys as well as he did bartenders or if he only did that after a bit of alcohol. He appeared back in the kitchen and set the bag on the island and began pulling food out. He slid yours over in front of you. “You know, if you call Panera, Panera in St. Louis, people get really offended.” Tyler said before taking a bite of his sandwich.

You looked up at him, “You’ve been to St. Louis?”

He shrugged his shoulders, “A few times.”

You nodded and took a bite yourself, chewing and swallowing before responding, “I’ve never been. Haven’t heard the best things.”

“Not too bad,” he said, “Not my favorite of all the places I get to go.”

You furrowed your eyebrows at him, “What is it that you do again?”

He looked up from his food slowly, you could see the gears in his head turning. “I work in entertainment.”

You nodded hesitantly. There was a part of the story you were missing here. There wasn’t really any point in worrying about it though as you would probably never see him again after this morning. So, what did it matter if he lied to you about what he did for a living? You’d gotten great sex and free food out of the deal. What did it matter to you?

He ran his fingers through his hair, scratching his head and tousling his curls, making them even messier than they were before, and you couldn’t keep your eyes off of him as he did it. “What do you do?” He asked.

“I’m a physical therapist,” you said. “I just started a new job, I work with mostly veterans.” You took another bite of your sandwich, so you were looking down at the counter and didn’t notice the way his face fell a little when he was given this information.

He didn’t know why he cared, but he did care that he knew for a fact someone like you, who spent her days helping wounded veterans, wasn’t going to want anything to do with him. Not when you found out who he really was. So, his face fell, and he focused on his sandwich for a few minutes.

You stared at him, confused. You hadn’t ever had someone give you the silent treatment over your job before. You usually didn’t tell people the details of where you worked because they would gush about how amazing it was that you were helping people who had served our country, then there was Tyler who was acting like you’d just told him that you had chosen to go be a drug dealer or some other illegal, undesirable career path.

Eventually he said, “That sounds like a really cool job.”

“It’s amazing,” you smiled, “I love it.”

He nodded at you, looking a little less put out now, “It sounds like a good job.”

You finished your food without much more conversation and Tyler cleaned up the trash before heading to the back door to let the dogs in. They ran into the house at full speed. Cash jumped straight onto the couch while Gerry and the brown one grabbed toys and brought them to Tyler’s feet. He laughed and took them, tossing them across the room.

You caught yourself smiling with him. You couldn’t help it. It was cute. He was cute. He clearly loved those dogs so much. They were important to him, he had called them his kids and a part of you wanted to dig deeper, to find out why he was so deeply attached to his dogs. Was he just a dog lover? Was there more? Why did he have three of them if he traveled for work?

You watched as Gerry took off running and jumped over the back of the couch to beat the chocolate lab to Tyler’s feet. “Gerry!” Tyler said, “Bad dog, the couch isn’t a trampoline!”

You laughed, and Tyler looked away from the finger he was pointing at his dog to focus his stare on you, “What’s so funny?”

“They’re actually your kids,” you said.

He grinned, “Told you.”

He turned back to Gerry then pointed to the Chocolate lab who was sitting patiently at his feet, toy dangling from his mouth, “Be more like Marshall.”

You threw your head back laughing, “I can’t take you seriously.”

Tyler was laughing at himself, “Stop laughing, I’m trying to discipline my son.”

“Oh my god,” you said, “I’m going to go get my water, discipline away.” You could still hear him playfully chastising Gerry as you walked into the kitchen and you couldn’t help but think that maybe he wasn’t as bad as you thought. Would someone who was a destroyer of hearts buy you breakfast? Would he get you a towel to clean up with? Would he tell you where the mouthwash was?

Maybe none of this mattered at all. But maybe it did.

Maybe there was something here.

Maybe that was why he kept flushing.

Maybe that was why your heartbeat picked up when you turned the corner, water bottle in hand and locked eyes with him as he turned to look over his shoulder. With a smile on his face, dog toy in his hand and hair a mess around his head.

<><><><><><><><>

Tyler pulled up beside your car in the bar parking lot and you turned to look at him, not quite sure how to say goodbye after the night you’d had and the morning you’d shared. You settled on, “This was fun, thank you for breakfast.”

He nodded, staring intently at you but said nothing. You took this as your cue to leave. You reached down and grabbed your purse off the floorboard and put one hand on the door handle, ready to push it open when a hand circled around your wrist. “Wait,” he said.

You turned to face him, not quite sure what to expect. Had you done something wrong? “Yes?” You asked quietly.

He opened and closed his mouth twice then chuckled a little and turned to look out the windshield for a moment before turning back to you. “I… okay… can I get your number?”

Your brows slammed together, though you didn’t mean for them to, and you stuttered out, “Why?”

He laughed and pulled his hand away, shaking his head, “Never mind.”

“No,” you found yourself saying and you swore that it was like some out of body experience. You could hear your brain thinking the exact opposite of the words that your mouth was saying, “I… yeah. Yeah I’d love to give you my number.”

He looked back at you slowly, his cheeks again a little pink as he stretched out his leg to pull his phone out of his pocket. He unlocked it and handed it to you with a new contact pulled up. You put your information in and handed it back to him. He dropped it in the cup holder and looked back up at you, “Thanks.”

You nodded, “I really just want to see your dog’s again.”

He tried to hide his smile, “They always get the pretty ones.”

It was your turn to turn just a little bit pink as you studied him. You didn’t know what you were looking for. It wasn’t as though you would find his intentions hiding somewhere under his dark eyes or tattooed skin. He was a mystery. If you wanted to go down this road, it was a risk. Was it one you were willing to take? Maybe he would decide not to get ahold of you and all of this worrying would be for nothing. After a long pause, you said, “I should go now. You said you had to be somewhere.”

“You had to be somewhere too,” he said, grinning at you like he knew you were completely full of shit.

You smiled back and pushed the door open. He waited until you were in your car and had waved to him to pull away. As soon as he was gone you pulled your phone out of your purse. Dead. You sighed and dropped it back inside before starting the car and heading home to your apartment.

<><><><><><><><>

“I can’t tell if you’re stupid or you just enjoy pain,” Erin said, “Why can’t you ever find a nice boy in a coffee shop and go on a date? Or, I don’t know, go out with that guy who’s been trying to get your number at work for months?”

You nodded slowly, “Okay, I one hundred percent understand where you’re coming from.”

“Then why do you keep doing this to yourself?” She asked, “You just finally got back out there after what happened with Danny and now you’re giving your number to some guy just like him?” She twisted around facing away from you and toward the sink, turning on the water and grabbing a sponge.

“I know,” you said, “trust me, that was on my mind all night.”

Erin shook her head, “Clearly there were other things on your mind or you wouldn’t be standing in my kitchen telling me this right now.”

You sighed and crossed your arms, “You’re my sister. You’re supposed to be nice to me.”

“No,” she said, looking over her shoulder at you, “I’m supposed to watch out for you. I’m supposed to make sure that you’re safe and healthy and that you end up with someone who loves you just as much as Max loves me because that’s what you deserve. You aren’t going to get that with some guy who picked you up in a bar and forced you into taking fireball shots.”

“Shot. Fireball shot. Singular. Not plural.”

Erin heaved a heavy sigh and turned back to the sink, “(Y/N), do I need to get Logan involved in this? Because I’m sure he’ll have plenty of words about you dating a guy just like the one he had to-,”

“I don’t want to know,” you cut her off, “and no. Please don’t. I don’t need my brother to know that I hooked up with someone last night.”

Erin nodded, “Then don’t respond when he text’s you. You’re going to get hurt (Y/N). There’s no way this ends well.”

Your shoulders fell as you walked around the island to stand beside your sister. You leaned your head on her shoulder and wrapped your arms around her. “I love you. I know you’re just looking out for me, but I have to make my own mistakes.”

“I let you make this mistake once.” She said quietly, “How many times are you going to make us watch you get hurt?”

You didn’t say anything as you watched her scrub the mornings breakfast out of a pan.

When she was finished with the dishes she turned off the water and wiped her hands on a dish towel. She turned to face you and wrapped her arms around your middle before pulling back and saying, “How about we go out today? Get manicures? I can buy new shoes, you can buy new clothes. It’ll be fun. I’ve just got to warn Max about it before he sees the bank statement.”

You smiled, it had been awhile since you had spent a day out with your sister. A part of you was jealous of her though. Jealous because you wished that you had someone to warn about the bank statements when you went out for a day of shopping. You didn’t though and though you were only twenty-five and there was plenty of time for that, you still found yourself impatient. Maybe that was why you found yourself giving your number to guys like Tyler and Danny.

“Yeah,” you said, “I’m always up for that.”

<><><><><><><>

It was late when you got home. The sun had set hours before and there was a chill in the air as you made your way into your apartment building. You dropped your shopping bags on your couch and headed straight into the bedroom, wasted no time in stripping out of your clothes and sliding into your pajamas.

It had been a long day for a Saturday and you were looking forward to relaxing all day the next day. You already had your whole day planned. You would take a nice long bath in the morning, follow it up with some Netflix, a good book, and end the night with a glass of wine. Just one.

You crawled into bed and pulled the covers over your legs, reached over and placed your phone on the charger. You’d just laid your head on the pillow when you heard the vibration of an incoming text message.

Never one to ignore a message, you reached over and grabbed your phone, pulled it up next to your face and studied it. It was an unknown number.

It’s probably too soon to text you, but I’m about to leave town. Want to go out tomorrow night?

Tyler. It had to be Tyler. Every word your sister had said that morning ran through your head. How this was going to be a repeat of Danny. She didn’t want to watch you get hurt again. She was just trying to look out for you.

For a moment you considered not responding, scared that she was right. Scared that your sister who so far had a one hundred percent track record of calling guys as they were upon first glance would be right about this one too.

Then another image ran through your head.

Tyler, awkwardly handing you a damp washcloth and then retreating to the closet to give you privacy. Tyler, handing you a t-shirt and asking you to stay. Tyler, pulling you back against his chest and holding you against him all night. Tyler, cheeks flushed as he told you that the mouthwash was under the sink. Tyler, accidentally telling you that he’d slept really well the night before while he was holding you. Tyler, saying that you distracted him.

The way your heart picked up when you met his eyes and he smiled.

How could this be like it was with Danny?

How could this possibly end badly?

Not when you made him blush almost every time you looked at him and your heart raced every time he looked at you.

You found yourself typing out a response.

It isn’t too soon at all. I would like that.

He responded quickly.

I’ll pick you up at six. Wear something nice.

#tyler seguin #tyler seguin imagine #tyler seguin imagines #nhl imagines #hockey imagines

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starrybethany · 4 years ago

Text

Clayton Keller: Part 5

Word count: 2081

I roll over in bed, stretching out my leg to release the tension in the muscle. It hits something hard on the other side of the bed and I shoot up in surprise, instantly regretting it as pain ruptures through my head.

Betsy groans, causing the pain to worsen and she turns towards me, innocently blinking her eyes open.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, my voice husky.

“Bro we got so drunk last night,” she lets out a quiet laugh and I can’t help but wince at that.

Every single noise that is occuring is making my head want to explode.

“I was too wasted to go home so you told me to crash here.”

“Okay, but why are you in my bed?”

She shrugs lazily. “You wanted someone to cuddle with.”

Yep, sounds like me.

She rolls over onto her back, splaying across the bed. She shows no hint of caring when her arm hits my body. “And you started whining because Clayton’s not here so I figured hey, I’m the next best thing.”

I watch her carefully as her eyes flicker back closed. I thought she would tease me about wanting Clayton here but I guess she’s too focused on her intense hangover to do that. I won’t complain about it, though.

Everything in my body is yelling at me to stop as I pull myself to a standing position, stumbling my way into the kitchen. I almost begin to cry at the sunlight streaming through the windows but hold it in, quickly grabbing two bottles of water and some Tylenol.

“Hey, babe.” I get Betsy’s attention quietly as I enter my room again, handing her a water bottle and two pills.

“Give me another.”

I give her another pill before taking three myself, drinking half of the water bottle before deciding it’s enough and laying back down on my bed. I’m just about asleep when my phone vibrates on the bedside table, light illuminating the dark room.

“Turn that shit off,” Betsy mumbles tiredly.

I squint my eyes as closed as they can get before grabbing my phone, turning it on ‘Do Not Disturb’ while catching a glance at the sender of the text. Clayton, of course. I groan from both the light and the absurdity of our situation and Betsy throws a pillow at me to get me to shut up.

I set my phone back down and turn to face her, falling into a nice slumber.

I feel better when I wake up but I’m still hungover as hell. I don’t know what I drank last night or how much, but I don’t think that I’ll be doing that for a while.

I feel ridiculous wearing sunglasses into the kitchen but when I spot Betsy making food at the stove with her sunglasses on, I don’t feel so bad.

“I don’t even remember what happened last night,” I murmur, leaning against the counter and staring down at it.

“Well, long story short, you couldn’t stop thinking about the Coyotes game you went to and how you met all of Clayton’s teammates and their partners and shit so you called me to get your mind off of the topic and oh, I did,” she smirks.

It would be more effective without the bulky sunglasses covering half of her face.

“Thanks for the booze, you should bring it to Tyler’s birthday party next week.” The words slip out of her mouth easily.

She just reminded me of another thing to be stressed about. Tyler’s birthday is next week and we celebrate hard every year. It takes months of planning in advance and shit, I forgot to plan it.

“You forgot his birthday didn’t you?” Betsy asks once she sees the look on my face.

I nod, pressing my head into my hands.

“Y/N, it was your turn to plan it! And I reminded you a bunch of times too!”

“You don’t think I know that, Betsy?” I snap. She becomes quiet and I sigh. “I’m sorry for yelling at you, it’s just, shit.”

“You can figure it out,” she reassures me. “You know all he really wants is to hang out with his friends, get drunk, and then get laid.”

“Yeah but I didn’t tell anybody and I didn’t buy any alcohol yet, hell I don’t even know how much money I have for alcohol,” I sigh.

“Ask Clayton to pay you early.” She shrugs.

I don’t respond, my mind racing with all that I have to do. I have to plan this birthday party, my midterms are coming up this week, my sister might be coming to visit me, and oh, yeah, I have to do whatever Clayton wants too.

My mind stops spinning when Betsy sets a bowl down in front of me, taking a seat at the counter beside me.

“Stop worrying, you’ll figure it out. You always do.”

“I guess so.”

My chest burns from lack of oxygen and I glare at Betsy’s car in the back of the parking lot. Why are there so many people at the grocery store in the middle of the day on a Monday? And why did so many people have to park like assholes?

“Hello?” I answer my phone breathlessly as I quickly grab a cart and walk through the store towards the alcohol section. I wanted to grab some booze for Tyler’s party before I had to rush back to campus for class but I don’t know how well that plan is working out.

“Y/N,” the other person lets out a wail and I pull my phone back in confusion, unsure of who it is.

It’s my college roommate from when I was a freshman. We talk once and a while but she’s still as obsessed with her boyfriend now as she was a couple of years ago, something that I can’t really related to.

“What’s wrong, Paige?” I ask, picking up a pack of beer in my free hand and putting it in my cart. I grab another pack and put that in my cart as I wait for her to collect herself.

“He cheated on me!” I have to pull the phone away from my ear as she screams it.

“Andrew cheated on you?” I question, sending her into another fit of sobs. I mentally curse myself out, grabbing a bottle of wine and a bottle of tequila off of the shelf. I decide to go for another bottle of tequila.

“Yeah, I just found the texts with the other girl and she’s gorgeous and she goes to Harvard and-””Here’s the plan, Paige,” I grab a pack of margarita mix, knowing that Paige would appreciate that much more than any other type of alcohol I would grab. Then I grab some more random bottles for Tyler’s party. “I have class soon so I’ll swing around your apartment and cry with you in about two hours. I’m bringing alcohol and I’ll grab some cookies, too.”

I grab the cookies off of the shelf as I pass it, stopping at a cash register and loading the alcohol onto the belt.

The cashier eyes me as the crying on the other end of the line slows down. “Okay.”

“I’ll see you soon.” I hang up and shove my phone into my back pocket, pulling out my wallet to get my ID out. “How are you today?”

“I’m good,” the cashier gives me a small smile, checking over my ID to make sure I’m over twenty one. “How are you doing?”

My phone rings instantly as her question ends and I pull it out, letting out a sigh. “Busy. Hello?”

“Why didn’t you answer my texts last night?” He asks.

Exhaustion fills my body as I realize this will lead to another fight, something I can’t handle with how little sleep I got last night and the hecticness that’s occured today. “I have things to do, Clayton.”

“But you can’t even take a minute out of your day to respond to my texts? Bullshit,” he spits.

I rub my eyes tiredly, pushing my card into the slot with a tug in my heart, knowing that I’ll wince when I see my account balance after this. “It just slipped my mind, okay?”

“Your job slipped your mind?”

Oh that’s right, this is technically my job. Even though it might not be a job with designated hours or tasks, it’s still something that I’m getting paid for, so I have to throw my heart into it as much as I just want to brush it off.

I never got to brush my part-time jobs off so why would I get to just brush this off? I guess I just assumed that Clayton would be more understanding.

“Okay, sorry.” I hurriedly push the cart into the parking lot, knowing that I’m definitely going to be late to class between loading everything into my car and the traffic. “I’ll come over as soon as class ends- wait, shit, I promised Paige I would go see her-”He scoffs at that and I bite my tongue. “I’ll come over around nine o’clock tonight, okay?”

“Whatever.”

I roll my eyes at his attitude. It’s really the last thing I want to deal with today, and quite frankly, as attractive as the guy is and as nice as he can be at times, he’s bothering me with this whole conversation and seeing him is the last thing that I want to do but I’m obligated to. “If you don’t want me to come over then text me. But otherwise I’ll be over then. I have to go, I have class.”

I grumpily ring the doorbell, not happy to see Clayton after our argument on the phone and watching Paige drink away all of her problems while not being able to because I needed to be sober enough to Uber over to Clayton’s house.

“Well look who it is,” Christian opens the door, greeting me with a friendly smile. “Clayton said you would be coming over!”

“Yeah,” I mumble, unsure of how to react to his words. He steps to the side and I enter the house, taking my shoes off and setting them beside the door.

“He’s just in his room, you know where that is, right?” He asks.

I nod, giving him a polite smile before walking down the hall towards the room I’ve been in a couple of times now. I walk in to see Clayton slouched against his headboard, video game controller in his hands and his eyes on the TV.

Really? I came over just to watch him play video games?

He doesn’t say anything and he doesn’t even look at me, but he lifts his arms and motions towards his lap, a sign for me to climb in. I make myself cozy against his body, watching whatever stupid shooter game he’s playing.

Despite the annoyance flooding through my veins, I snuggle closer to Clayton, cherishing the few moments of the day that I get to rest.

“How was your day?” He questions, montone.

“Hectic. You?”

He hums, pressing a button extra hard on the controller. Once he loses all three of his lives I ask, “So do you want to do something now?”

“Yeah, play another round,” he responds, restarting the game.

“So you knew that I have a busy week but begged me to give you attention and now you’re sitting here playing video games.” I sit up in his lap, turning to make eye contact. He avoids my eyes, staring at the TV screen. “Explain that to me.”

“I don’t know what you want from me, babe.”

I blatantly roll my eyes. “I literally just told you what I want from you. An explanation.”

“Is it too much to ask you to just sit here and watch me play video games?” He asks, exasperated. “Ugh, you made me die.”

“You would’ve died anyways,” I mumble, crawling out of his lap and sitting on the bed next to him with my arms crossed.

“If you’re going to pout then you can just leave.”

My head snaps towards him and I notice that now he’s staring back at me with a blank expression, giving me his full attention.

“What?”

He repeats his sentence and I scoff, sliding my feet onto the floor. I leave without another word, not pleased with the way I leave things but not happy with the way he’s treating me either.

#Clayton keller imagine #NHL imagines #Clayton keller fanfiction #Clayton keller fanfic #Clayton keller story

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hournites · 4 years ago

Text

Blackouts (2/2)

part one

~.~

“You two made a bomb?”

Beth sat with Rick on the wooden bench of disciplinary torture. It was stiff and uncomfortable—worse, it smelt like sweat and fear. She had to squash down an anxiously clawing urge to tap her foot against the floor like Rick, a habit that used to annoy her. A habit she doesn’t even have.

Beth has never been in trouble at school. Ever.

Not one detention or demerit point or strict scolding by any teacher or playground monitor since Kindergarten. Beth never had to sit on this bench. Never been in the principal’s office for any other reason than collecting a plaque or certificate of achievement. Never felt this slimy guilt-ball of awful. It’s only been forty-five minutes, but sitting here in shame as their peers passed by through the big window of the office in front of Principal Bowin and Pat and the nice secretaries that worked here and God was punishment enough. She felt like a terrible human being. A liar. A cheater. A scoundrel.

Principal Bowin crossed her arms in her matching dark green skirt and jacket suit, far too displeased for a woman who spends her weekends hypnotizing innocent people to death with her husband’s fiddle.

“Not to harm anyone! This is bullshit!”

Beth held her tongue, but she had to give it to Rick. This sucked.

Why did Mr. Hyacinth have to correct his prescription glasses? He never bothered to notice their experiments in Chemistry class before! And Rick couldn’t get in his bad graces, he needed to do well in chemistry to figure out more of his father’s equations and codes. He was doing well in the course, Beth thinks he might have a shot at the regional science competition that she's pushing him to enter. A win there would look amazing on college applications and Rick was super good at it! He couldn’t afford another black mark on his student record, not now.

“I’m sure you know this act of delinquency is a serious offence,” Principal Bowin continued. “Explosives are weapons and they—”

“—A stink bomb is hardly an explosive—”

“—In fact, I ought to bring in the county sheriff—”

“Pat!” Rick cried. “She’s blowing things all out of proportion—”

“Bad word choice, Rick,” Beth muttered under her breath. He groaned and tried to think of something else to say, but under Principal Bowin and Mr. Dugan’s judgmental glares, he thought better of it and slumped back against his seat. Beth stared down at her shoes. She could never bring her parents to another parent-teacher assembly ever again. They were going to be so disappointed.

“How could it be a stink bomb? There was no foul smell in the report sent by their teacher.”

“Because we never set it off!” Rick snapped, lying to save their butts, and rather convincingly too. “We weren’t trying to hurt anyone.” Which was true. “We finished the assignment early and we got bored. I mean, this was just a prank that I made Beth help me with—”

Beth glanced up at the two adults, knowing if Rick continued the way he was, he’d only screw himself over.

“Mr. Dugan, this was all my fault. Rick had nothing to do with it!”

“Save your breath, Beth.”

He turned to The Fiddler. “May I have a word with these two? Alone?”

She let out a huff. “You have five minutes. When I return, we will discuss repercussions.”

The door shut firmly behind her, and they all waited for the click-clacks of her high heel shoes down the hallway before they all started talking at once.

Pat put his hands on his knees to stare at them at eye level. A truly incredible guilt-tripping tactic.

“— Bombs? At school?? Are you out of your minds?”

“For the last time, they’re not explosives. It’s just—”

“It’s for JSA!” Beth blurted out.

“Yeah, look sorry I’m not sorry, Pat. They’re important and we need them.”

“Explain. Now.” Pat never looked so mad. Not at Beth. She squirmed in her seat but Rick barely looked affected, if only the least bit remorseful. She didn’t know how he could sit so still in the face of a disappointed father figure.

Oh. Beth mentally cringed when she remembered why that was. Right.

Rick glanced sideways at her. Beth let out a sigh and reached into her backpack’s front pocket to pull out the blackout bombs. They had figured out how to make them compact last week. They looked like the fancy things her mom would put in her bath when she wanted to relax. Or charcoal gumballs from a retro candy machine.

“Rick and I came up with these so that I could throw them at ISA as a diversion when I need to run.”

Pat took one, bringing it up to his eye. “What does it do?”

Rick and Beth went quiet.

“Guys.”

Beth bit her lip. “We call them blackouts. When they hit the ground they mask the area with a thick black impenetrable smoke that makes it hard to see.”

“Yeah,” Rick chimed in. “So that Beth can use Chuck’s night vision to safely get away or blind opponents so she could have that upper hand.”

“It’s not lethal? Toxic?”

She shrugged. “Not so far as we could tell, no. We never got sick and we've been carrying samples of them for weeks.”

His eyes bugged out. "Weeks?!"

Rick stifled a laugh.

Pat stared at them, slack-jawed. “ How did you come up with this?”

It was Rick's turn to shrug. “It’s just simple potassium nitrate.” He scratched his head. “And some other stuff. Beth made an Excel spreadsheet.”

“Don’t you potassium nitrate me, Rick Tyler. This is dangerous. And irresponsible. And frankly Beth, I’m shocked you went along with this for so long. At school? During class?”

“We’re sorry, Mr. Dugan.”

“Yeah,” he said, running his hand through his hair. “Sorry that you got caught.”

Beth’s face fell. “Are we getting suspended?” She hated the way her voice cracked. She hated the way Rick’s arm immediately went around her too. It was nice but she didn’t want him feeling bad for her because she couldn’t take a simple scolding. Ugh, she was so sensitive.

Pat confiscated all of the bombs. “I don’t know. I hope not, because you’ve never been in trouble, Beth. I’d hate for that to change now.” He looked at Rick. “But you. That’s a whole other story.”

“We didn’t do anything that warrants more than detention.”

"You're very lucky your mother and father aren't here, Beth. I don't know what they'd say about this." Pat began to pace, ignoring Rick’s excuses. “And since when and why did I become your emergency contact, anyway?”

Rick pulled a face. “What do you think?”

Beth’s hand found its way to his knee. Rick’s jaw tensed, but he sucked in a breath before looking away.

“...Right,” Pat said with a sigh. “Your uncle.”

The room went silent.

“Okay, well I’m glad you trust me with your screw-ups. Because that’s what this is. A big screw up, you hear me? You’re not doing these kinds of reckless experiments again.”

“Yeah,” Rick replied, crossing his arms and staring up at the ceiling. “We get it.”

“Rick, I don’t think you—”

Beth stood up from the bench of shame. “Don’t be so hard on him.” She wrung her hands, and her heart leapt out of her chest. She was really terribly bad at confrontation. Especially to adults. Super especially to nice adults she trusted and had let down. But she needed to defend Rick, he got enough to deal with already. She wasn’t about to let him lose Pat’s respect. Not because of her.

“I knew it was a dumb idea to do in school, but he only did it because he wanted to protect me.” She refused to look back and see Rick’s face, but Pat’s own went soft. “And Rick is really good at chemistry. Don’t take this away from him, Mr. Dugan.” Her eyes began to well up with inexplicable tears. This was really dumb. Beth needed to get a grip. “Please.”

Two hands were suddenly on her shoulders. Rick. He squeezed, rubbing with his thumb. “Beth,” he whispered. “You don’t have to do this. It was my dumb idea. You knew that. I don’t really care for school anyway, to hell if I get suspended or Mr. Hyacinth returns to thinking I’m trash. Whatever.”

Beth frowned. “You’re lying.” She turned around and his arms dropped to his sides. His eyebrows pulled together as he stared at her, unable to read her sincerity. “You do care. I know you do. Stop taking the blame for me on the stupid stuff we both do. If we’re going down...We’re going down together.”

Something warm and wonderful seeped into Rick’s eyes. His hand flexed and Beth used her courage to take it again, tangling their fingers together like the first time they first started making the blackouts. “Beth.”

“I care about you, Rick,” she admitted, feeling her face heat up. It wasn’t like she was confessing an undying love for him or anything, of course, she cared, he had to know. “I’m in your corner. Always.”

Rick stared at her some more, unsure what to say. Slowly, he raised their joined hands and brushed his lips over Beth’s hand. Her stomach dropped like that one unforgettable time she rode the Dive Bomber at Omaha’s Six Flags. But this time she didn’t want to throw up. At all. This rush was thrilling. Beth could feel Rick’s kiss tingle down to her toes.

Mr. Dugan cleared his throat and the two tore their gazes away from each other, Beth slowly turning back to face him. He gave the teens a long look.

“Fine. Here’s the deal. Experimental weapon building only happens at the garage under my constant supervision. No ifs or buts.”

Beth stuck out her hand. “Deal!” She turned around to look at Rick. "It's a good compromise!"

“Your garage doesn’t have any of the chemicals we need.”

“Then I’ll order some,” he retorted. “Need I remind you that the school principal is a part of the ISA?”

“Yeah.” Rick’s stubbornness on the subject seemed to have deflated in its entirety. Beth held in her smile when Pat gave her a knowing look because they both knew why.

Principal Bowin returned, looking very annoyed. “Apparently, the school board has plans to use Beth Chapel for televised school advertisements and have no desire to hear my complaints about the matter as there’s no proof. They won’t even let me call her parents about it.”

Beth let out the biggest sigh of relief.

“So she’s free to go.”

Mr. Dugan smiled.

“Rick Harris, however—”

Beth took a step forward and raised her head high. “I won’t do any commercials if Rick isn’t excused. That’s not fair. We weren’t making any bombs, Principal Bowin. The beaker exploded. We were in the lab. It happens.”

Mr. Dugan wrapped his arms around both kids. “They’re good kids. If Rick needs some type of community service, he can work at my garage.”

Rick looked at him. “Really?”

“Really?” Beth echoed.

“Yes. Starting Monday.” He ushered them out of the office while they still could. “I’m sure that would suffice, Principal Bowin?”

“But—”

“Need I point out that I am clearly not this man’s father? You do know who his father is, right Ma’am? Matthew Harris? The man Rick had tried to file student reports about for the last several years for neglect and abuse? Reports your administration did nothing about?”

Principal Bowin paled. “Uh.”

“Thought so. Have a nice day.”

He saluted, shepherding them out.

Beth turned to Mr. Dugan as they went outside, still holding Rick’s hand. “Mr. Dugan that was awesome!”

“You gotta start calling me Pat, Beth.”

“She’s not ever calling you Pat,” Rick teased with a smile of his own and squeezed her hand before he let go. Beth watched fondly as Rick tentatively, awkwardly, hugged Mr. Dugan in front of the flagpole. “But she’s right. It kinda was.”

Her heart flipped as it always did when Rick opened up his feelings to other people. She cares for him so much. More than anyone. More than her parents. It was crazy how much. It was almost like...She thought about the way he kissed her hand, eyes piercing into hers in The Fiddler's office and felt giddy all over again like—

Time stopped. Beth's feet stopped working as she realized something important about what she felt for Rick.

Oh.

#hournite #rick tyler #beth chapel #pat dugan #amaya bowin #hournites fic #blackouts #chapter 2 #completed #fluff #pat be like: did i just witness a reenactment of pride and prejudice??

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jenliliscripts · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 219

June’s POV

The ride to her apartment was awfully quiet, too quiet that it's already frightening. How do I begin telling her? Should I thank her for a night filled with warmth and intimacy, for creating an imaginary world for me? And another thought crossed my mind—should it remain a fantasy when I could make it a reality before this ends?

The soft whirring of the engine resonated within corners of my car as I pulled over in front of her building. I parted my lips, desperate to break the silence that hung over us, yet nothing came out. Another minute had passed and not a word was said.

"Lia"

"June"

We said in unison, looking at each other with uncertainty. I couldn't read her eyes—they're expressing different emotions at once that I couldn't pinpoint which one she's feeling right now. Is it sadness? Pity? Regret?

"You go first," she prompted, soothing her arm then turned away.

I cleared my throat, mustering all the courage I have before speaking. "Thank you for today, Lia. For being someone else for a night."

"It's nothing. You paid a lot for this," she answered, breathing the words out.

"…for laughing at my silly jokes. For answering every question I threw honestly. For chasing me outside the ice cream shop. For holding my hand every chance you could. For not letting go until we needed to."

Dipping her head down, she began playing with fingers. "Why are you saying all of that? You don't need to list everything down."

"I just want you to hear it."

Silence.

Where do I go from here? How do I let her know?

"Lia I—"

"Thank you for tonight too. It was a long week and I've been having a rough patch myself. I guess this is somehow my escape from the issues I was dealing with."

She collected her purse, glancing at me again before she pulled the handle. "I'll go inside now, okay? You know what comes after this."

Divorce, my mind whispered.

I gripped the steering wheel tighter, digging my nails onto my palms. There are so many things left unsaid. Can we talk about the way you look at me? The way your eyes showed affection after pushing me away not so long ago? Like you wanted me to stay, like you wanted me to fight for whatever this is. Can we talk about the way you hold me? How tender your touch is against my skin? Am I the only one feeling it? And how can I forget about the kiss? The goddamn kiss. The way you gasped as I claimed your lips. The way every calculated move had you pulling my shirt, how it crumpled around your fingers as we got lost in the moment. If I hadn't stopped, where could we have ended? What will you make of us then?

Questions ceaselessly flooded my mind and despite that, I only managed to nod, letting my thoughts dangle at the tip of my tongue.

"Good night, June."

"Good night, Lia."

She stepped out, walking to the entrance slowly. I watched her shiver as the wind whipped past her. Should I let her go like this—admit defeat before the battle even started? Fuck it. I've seen enough to believe that she feels the same. She just needs a wake up call and I'm giving it to her now. If shit happens, then shit happens. It's all or nothing.

I frantically climbed down, jogging behind her. I snagged her wrist, her head quickly turning to me. I immediately released it and took a step back. "Lia. I have to tell you something."

Her expression shifted, fear washing over her in an instant. It seemed like she knew what I was going to say and that made her want to run away yet her feet were glued to the ground. "J-june, whatever that is, keep it to yourself."

"I—"

"No. Stop. I don't want to hear it."

"So you know?"

"I don't know anything. I have no idea what you're talking about and I don't want to know."

Lie. Your eyes say otherwise.

"I don't care if you refuse to hear it, Lia. I'm going to say it regardless." I exhaled audibly. The dreaded moment has come and I have no other choice but to go through it. "I love you, Lia."

She stumbled backwards, unable to respond to my confession. "I loved you for a while now and I wasn't sure if I should tell you because I know it will change everything. I was going to last time, but you said you're seeing Tyler again, so I decided not to. I was discouraged after knowing that, to be honest. I was almost convinced that I didn't have a chance."

My lips curled up to a smile as I look at her lovingly. Although she's evidently horrified by the revelation, I still looked at her with so much adoration. "But I thought again. How could I even have a chance at getting you if I don't tell you how I feel? At some point, you might have been confused. Your head must have been all over the place."

"No, I wasn't confused," she retorted, her brows meeting in the middle. "You're making things up."

"Lia, don't run away. I know you feel the same. Tell me I'm wrong. You can't deny these assumptions after everything that had happened. You, holding my hand, visiting me at home when I was sick—"

"I don't, okay!" she exclaimed, cutting me off, her face turning red as exploded in anger. "Stop twisting things. I don't like you that way. I never did, I never will."

Her words hurt—they're tearing every piece of my heart—and I felt helpless. But I have to keep going. I will not go home until I convince her to leave him for me. I'm sure she's only enraged at the fact that I'm right, that she wants me as much I want her—that she has fallen in love with a girl.

"Then why did you kiss me that night? If that was just an empty gesture, I would have known. I've kissed so many people Lia and no one has ever done it like you did. Not even Bailey who clearly liked me for quite some time." I moved closer to her. "Look, the more you try to hide it, the harder it gets. Fall for me. Fearlessly. Head first."

She was clenching her jaw, her eyes turning glassy. Her breathing was shallow and labored. "I would never, June. Everything about you scares me. I mean everything—your status, your family, your job, your history, the world you are in. I'm scared that being associated with you in any way could potentially destroy everything that I've worked hard for. A week ago, I committed a mistake at work all because I was too occupied thinking what I did wrong for you to act in such a cold way and I couldn't fully understand why I'm so concerned. For the love the of God, why should I care, right? I was out of myself and it didn't sit well with me. From that point on, I had to re-assess, June. I can't let you do this to me."

She sighed, biting her lip for a moment. "You're just going to make things harder for me. I was fine without you. I was completely okay until I woke up in your hotel room and you told me I got married to you. What followed after that were a series of unexpected turns that I wasn’t ready for. I don't need something new. I want what I already know and you—you're just too unpredictable and it's terrifying."

I remained quiet, not sure of what to say. I'm afraid that one wrong answer would serve as the final straw.

She shut her eyes, a line forming in between her brows as her frown grew deeper. "Our relationship is so unclear to me that I started to think of things that I shouldn't be. I didn't like those thoughts, June. Those possibilities and what ifs keep me up at night and as much as I want to deal with them, I'd rather push them away."

Lia avoided my gaze, blinking rapidly to keep her tears from falling. "It was nice playing pretend with you. It was nice that I could hold your hand and not think of the consequences. It was good that I could make up excuses when I become soft for you. We're two people who were fated to meet and that's all there is to it. Somewhere along the way, we need to say goodbye. We live in different worlds. You, of all people, should know that."

Before I realized it, tears started falling from my eyes. I've held them long enough and now they're crashing down one after another. "We don't have to end it. We can still go on. If you just trust me, we can make it work. I'll do everything to make it work."

I wiped my tears from my face but it was useless. My eyes became a flowing stream and the situation isn't helping at all. "You don't have to be scared about anything. Just give me something to hold on to and I'll do everything in my power to protect us. Tell me you love me too, Lia."

She shook her head, a lone tear escaping her eyes. "I don’t. How many times should I repeat myself? Allowing you to come close was a mistake. I should've kept you in a safe distance. I should’ve hated you until the very end.”

"If you can't tell me you love me, then," I cupped her cheek. She briefly recoiled against my touch, but she eventually gave in and let me keep my hand in place. "Can you answer this truthfully please? Do you love him?"

She held the hand that's latched on her face. "Don’t make it difficult for yourself, June. Just go. Leave."

"But I love you. How can I? I can't just stop here. I'll go against him if I have to. Do I need to beg you to choose me?"

She squeezed my shoulders with her other hand then moved towards me, resting her forehead on my chest. "June, what I want you to do is set me free. I need my old self back. I don’t like who I'm becoming because of you. If you really love me, you'd let me go."

"Even if you love me too?"

"I never said I did."

"You don’t need to. From what you said earlier and what I see in your eyes, I know you love me too. I get that your future is at stake. I get that you don't like exploring the unknown—you're not a risk taker. You never were. You always come back to what brings you comfort. But you're making the situation more complicated than it really is just because you don't want to admit the truth. We can easily sort this out, you know."

"June, please," she pleaded, sobbing softly as she banged her head against my chest.

I slowly reached for her nape with one hand and slipped the other behind her back, then pulled her in, her face now pressed against my chest. My lungs burned at every intake of breath and my heart was slowly sinking as time ticked away. "Shhh. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

I continued apologizing, stroking her back until she stopped crying. "If I disappear from your life, will it make everything better?"

I felt her nod and I drown further in the waves of pain brought by her response. "And you won't regret your decision?"

She shook her head, her fingers clutching the hem of my jacket. Her actions were always contradicting from the very beginning and even now that we are nearing the end, she's still behaving in the same manner. She wants me to go yet her hands says something different. She said she doesn't love me yet there was a hint of sadness in her eyes whenever she denied it.

I breathed out before loosening my embrace. I leaned slightly backwards to get a good look at her face. I tipped her chin up and looked at her lovingly, as if it was the last time I could be this close and maybe this is really the last. "Are you sure?"

She sniffed, her eyes unrelenting. "Yes, I am."

I flashed a somber smile as I tucked the strands of hair on her face behind her ear then planted a soft kiss on her forehead. "Okay, then. I will do as you wish, Lili."

I retreated and stood at arm's length. "I'm still glad I got to tell you. At least I won't walk away with regrets. I respect your decision and because I love you, it's enough reason to listen to you. You know I normally wouldn’t accept rejection, but many things changed since I felt this way for you. I've completely lost the old me and I'm happy with who I am now. I even like myself better. How I wish you share the same sentiment, but as you said earlier, you don't like who you are becoming because of me and that's just so sad. Nevertheless…"

I inhaled deeply, bracing myself for the pain that's about to crush me after I say these words to her. "I will live as if we hadn't met. If I see you somewhere, maybe in your office, I will walk past you like I never knew you. I will be out of your life from here on out, Lia. You’re free from me."

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brianamorganbooks · 4 years ago

Text

The Tricker-Treater

This is a teaser of the titular story from my upcoming horror collection. You can learn more about the project and help me bring it to life here!

Moira kicked spilled candy corn off her front step. The remnants of another weeknight massacre. This time, all in the name of a holiday.

She’d stopped keeping track of the holidays.

They meant nothing, after all. Just another day full of shit, another day without Norman in it. What was the point?

She looked over at the garden gnome that Norman had polished every St. Patrick’s Day. The ghost of an old conversation floated back to her as she picked it up from where the kids had knocked it over.

Moira closed her eyes and savored the memory.

“It’s a gnome, Norm. Not a leprechaun. It’s not his holiday.”

��I know that! But don’t you think what matters is doing it?”

In the present, Moira sighed. This St. Patrick’s Day, she’d grab a rag and polish the years of grime away. So far, she hadn’t had the strength.

It was the day before Halloween. She’d picked up trash all week, and if those damn kids tried their tricks tonight, she’d give them more than treats.

Movement on the sidewalk at the mailbox caught her eye. Riley stood there, all tousled blonde hair and sleepy brown eyes. His hand-me-down sweatshirt needed elbow patches. She’d see to that soon.

“Don’t stand there gawking at me. C’mon.” She waved him forward, but he looked at his shoes. She put her hands on her hips. “What’s the matter with you?”

“He’s coming here tonight to get you,” he said.

She squinted in the morning sun. “Who’s coming to get me?”

“The Tricker-Treater,” Riley said. “He’s coming here tonight. I made a deal with him.”

“What?” Riley never spoke in riddles. He wasn’t one to loiter at the end of her driveway either. “Peanut butter cookies inside. Tell me later.”

“No, he’ll be here later. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”

Moira frowned. “Stop listening to your brother. Come inside and have some cookies with me and we’ll go from there.”

Without waiting to see if he’d follow, Moira headed back into the house. She went straight to the kitchen. The storm door slammed shut not too long after, and Riley pulled up a chair at the kitchen table.

Moira carried the plate of cookies over to him. Up close, he looked like the same old Riley as always. All she saw was the haunted glint in his eyes he got from spending time with Taylor. Now school was back in, all he had was Taylor until their mother got home from work. Retail was hell, Moira remembered. When Riley’s mother got home, the last thing she’d want to do was scold Taylor for tormenting his little brother.

Norman would have scared Taylor shitless, given the chance. He would have protected Riley.

Norman had always been better with kids.

“Lots of trick-or-treaters coming here tomorrow,” Moira said. “So what makes yours so special? Why’s he coming here tonight?”

Riley froze with his hand halfway to a cookie. “Not trick-or-treater. Tricker-Treater.”

Moira shook her head. “I said that.”

“No, like… hang on.” He scooted the chair back from the table and dashed across the room to where the landline rested. There was a small pad of paper beside it. He snatched up the paper and a pen and ran back to the table. His brow furrowed in concentration. Sticking out his tongue, he leaned over the paper and spelled out the difference for her:

T-R-I-C-K-E-R

T-R-E-A-T-E-R

He set down the pen and waited for her to read his writing. Moira shook her head again. He didn’t know how to spell it.

“No ‘or,’” he said. “Tricker-Treater. He’s both.”

Something icy pricked the back of Moira’s neck. She brushed her fingers over the spot and found nothing. Her gaze drifted back to the paper.

“He’s both?”

“Mmhm.” Riley grabbed a cookie and took a bite. He devoured it, careful not to make eye contact with Moira. It was a sophisticated strategy for a seven-year-old.

Moira leaned on the table and stared at him. “Riley.”

He scooted his chair away. “I gotta use the potty.”

“Do you, or do you not want to talk to me?” she asked.

He stuffed another cookie in his mouth, and when he spoke, he sprayed crumbs everywhere. “I don’t want to talk about him.”

“You mean the Tricker-Treater?”

“Yeah.” He choked on the cookie and coughed. Moira grabbed a glass and filled it with water from the sink. She patted him on the back and slid the glass to him.

Riley chugged the water and still couldn’t stop coughing. Moira took the plate of cookies from him, because no way in hell was he going to choke to death on her watch. Not if she could help it.

“You’d better head on home,” Moira said. “You’ll worry your mother sick.”

Riley scooted back from the table again. “Don’t call her. She doesn’t know.”

“She doesn’t know you’re here? Did you stay home from school, or did you skip?”

“I...”

His eyes darted to look over her shoulder. Moira spun around. Nothing there. When she turned back to him, he was heading for the front door.

“Riley!”

“I messed up, I messed up!”

She lunged for his sleeve and missed. He was through the front door and across the yard before she had time to try again. Damn it. What was wrong with that boy? He’d been in no hurry minutes before with a plate of cookies in front of him. The minute she’d mentioned his mother though…

Moira sighed and leaned against the door frame. Something was off with Riley, and she wasn’t going to let him out of her sight until she got to the bottom of it.

When he returned a few minutes later, Moira stood between him and the front door. “Riley, please. Tell me what’s going on.”

He chewed his bottom lip. “I don’t wanna. I’m scared. It never goes well.”

“What do you mean, ‘it never goes well’?”

“Every time I tell you, it… I messed up,” he repeated.

Moira sighed. She was getting nowhere fast. Whatever he had on his mind, it upset him so much he wasn’t making sense. If she couldn’t get him to focus, she would never figure out what was going on. And, seeing as how it involved her…

“Riley.” Moira grabbed his shoulders and held him there, stooping to look into his eyes. “Whatever you think is going to happen, I can face it better if you tell me about it, okay?”

His lower lip quivered. “Even if it’s bad?”

“Even if it’s bad.”

Riley gulped. “The Tricker-Treater is gonna stop by your house tonight. You gotta meet with him and do what he says, or else.”

Moira quirked an eyebrow at him. “Or else?”

He hesitated. “Like I said, I’ve told you about him before, and he… he always makes sure to catch you. Even if you run away, he finds you and he…” Riley’s voice trailed off into a sob. Shiny, fat tears bubbled over his lashes and rolled down his face. Moira pulled him against her and wrapped her arms around him.

Shit, she hadn’t meant to make him cry. Jesus Christ, that was the last thing she wanted.

Moira’s chest tightened. “It’ll be okay, Riley. We’ll figure it out together, all right?”

Riley pulled away from her. He shook his head. “I dunno.”

“I’m older and wiser. Humor me, huh?”

He sniffed and wiped his nose. Moira debated getting a tissue for him, but it was too late—he was already rubbing the snot with his sleeve. As perceptive as the kid could be, he was still a kid, and he was gross.

Sometimes she wondered what it would have been like to have children. Sometimes she watched Riley and was glad that time had passed her.

“You should run home now,” Moira said again. “Even if you did skip school, your mom won’t be angry as long as you’re safe.”

His gaze jumped over her shoulder again. She waited for him to refocus. He’d come there in such a hurry, and now he kept drifting away. The urgency had waned. That was good.

“Are you feeling all right?”

Riley nodded. “I’m… a little better now.”

“No more getting upset over the Tricker-Treater, okay?”

Hesitation, then another nod. A slow exhale. “Okay.”

“You want a few cookies to take home? You can share them with Tyler.”

Riley wrinkled his nose at the mention of his brother. “He doesn’t deserve cookies.”

“I suppose he doesn’t.”

Moira patted him on the head and went back into the kitchen. She eyed the half-empty glass in a pool of condensation, the cookie crumbs Riley had sprayed on the table. She looked back at Riley, still standing where she’d left him, and her chest ached. She flattened a hand against her collarbone.

She and Norman could’ve tried a little longer.

“Riley?”

His head jerked up. “Huh?”

“You still want those cookies?”

“Um… no thanks.” He wiped his nose with the sleeve of his sweater again. “I’ve never stayed this late before. I don’t wanna see him.”

The poor kid was talking in circles again. Better send him off to someone much more qualified.

Moira propped a hand on her hip. “Go on, get outta here before I call your mom. And be careful tomorrow.”

Riley cast a long look at her before putting his hand on the doorknob. That was all it took? No fight? No begging her for cookies, saying he had changed his mind?

She should have insisted he take some.

If he’d still demanded some, that would have been proof things were normal.

Instead, Moira frowned at the back of his head as he walked out and left the door open.

* * *

Moira tossed popcorn into her mouth and watched Bill Murray fail to woo Andie MacDowell. There was no reason for the network to broadcast Groundhog Day on October 30, but she wasn’t complaining. It had been one of Norman’s favorite movies. They’d gone to see it in theaters the day it came out, which seemed so long ago now.

Without Norman, time dragged on. How had it only been a year since his death?

Watching a movie she’d seen more than a dozen times soothed her ragged nerves. That the movie was itself a perpetual, familiar cycle was not lost on her. In fact, that was a large part of Groundhog Day’s charm—especially tonight, when there was so much on her mind.

Riley’s behavior had left her shaken and confused. Sure, he was a kid, but he’d always been perceptive, and she trusted what he said. He usually meant what he said. At that age, it was rare for children to have ulterior motives. Whatever Riley thought was going to happen to her, it was worth considering.

The Tricker-Treater was coming to get her tonight.

Moira’s gaze jumped to the glow of the streetlight that permeated her closed blinds. Outside, the air was cold and crisp. Inside, she was cozy.

She drew the knitted afghan tighter around her midsection. Andie had slapped Bill. Normally, the moment made Moira laugh. Normally, she wasn’t wound up like a coiled snake.

The chiming of her doorbell made her jump out of her skin. She jostled the bowl in her lap, spilling popcorn everywhere.

Why was she so jumpy? It was likely Riley and his mother, coming to check on her after their talk. Riley’s mom Adriane was nice—she apologized for Riley with baked goods and wine. When she wasn’t working, she tried to come over for tea and pour out her soul to Moira.

In another life, they could have been mother and daughter.

In another life, Norman might still be alive.

Another ache struck Moira’s chest. The doorbell chimed again, demanding her attention.

She set the bowl aside and stood. Whoever it was, they were insistent. She doubted they’d go away if she ignored them.

Probably some damn kids, anyway. God willing, they wouldn’t egg her when she opened the door—for their sakes as well as hers.

She didn’t feel forgiving.

Moira crept over to the door and pulled back the curtain on the window beside the door. She had to see who had come knocking.

There was no one there.

Puzzled, she let the curtain drop and stood on tiptoe to look through the peephole.

No one.

Moira stepped back. She flattened a hand against her chest.

The doorbell chimed again.

Icy dread stuck its fingers down the back of Moira’s shirt. Her hand settled on the cold metal doorknob. After a breath, she twisted it and pulled the front door open.

And gasped.

The man—if the thing could even be called a man—stood at least seven or eight feet tall. It had to double over to fit under the awning of her porch. Pale red skin stretched tight over pointed features, most notably a bear skull. At least, she thought it was a bear skull. Norman would have known for sure. Norman always—

Coal-black eyes glittered at her as the thing bared its teeth—razor-sharp—in some semblance of a smile.

It wore nothing but a top hat, which it tipped before it spoke.

“I hope you were expecting me.”

His voice was low and smooth, like a jazz singer’s, and she shivered. Moira supposed she should have fainted or had a heart attack by then, but once he spoke, all her fear disappeared. It was like he had swallowed it up with his words.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“Riley didn’t tell you? I’m the Tricker-Treater. Would you mind if I came in?”

Moira froze with her hand still on the doorknob. What was she supposed to do? The Tricker-Treater offered the illusion of a choice. Was it merely that—an illusion—or would he let her decide how the evening would progress?

Moira let her gaze wander over the creature’s form again. He had the gaunt, emaciated look of a feral dog, and the tightness in her chest only tightened even further.

Nothing about him made her think he’d give her any choice.

“C-come in,” Moira said.

The Tricker-Treater kept his eyes locked on her as he stepped over the threshold and into the house. Moira swore he brought the smell of decay inside with him, but a moment later, it was gone.

Rotting pumpkins, she thought. That was the smell.

Moira gestured for him to sit on the couch. Eldritch horror or not, he was a guest.

The Tricker-Treater sat, bones creaking and popping as he did so. Moira tried her damnedest not to wince at the noises.

She sat in Norman’s favorite armchair and waited for the Tricker-Treater to speak.

“Has Riley… told you all about me?” he asked.

Moira paused. “How do you know Riley?”

“We made a deal. He’s a special child, isn’t he? Perceptive. Tenacious.” The Tricker-Treater flashed her another chilling smile. “Fragile.”

The blood dropped out of Moira’s face. “What are you getting at?”

The Tricker-Treater steepled his long, bony fingers. “It would be a shame if any danger were to befall Riley. If you could prevent such a tragedy, wouldn’t you want to, no matter what the cost?”

Moira rubbed the goosebumps on her arms. “Don’t you dare hurt him.”

“We made a deal,” the Tricker-Treater repeated. “He asked for money so his mother could be around more often. I told him I could give him anything he wanted—such as money—for a price.”

The Tricker-Treater’s eyes made Moira’s head swim. She broke eye contact. “So that’s why you’re here. You’re going to kill me.”

She should have known this was how she would die. Norman, with all his superstitions and wonder of the paranormal, had died of a stroke in the kitchen. A nice, normal death. Meanwhile, here she was, whisked away by a monster for the sake of a child’s wish.

“Not quite,” the Tricker-Treater said. “Well, only if I must.”

Moira’s head snapped up, and she met his gaze again, even though it dizzied her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

The Tricker-Treater tapped his claws against the coffee table. Click, click, click. “If you play by the rules, everything will be all right.”

The sinking feeling in Moira’s gut returned. “What rules?”

The Tricker-Treater’s unnerving smile returned too. “Every game has rules, Moira. Do you want to play?”

Her stomach had dropped to her ass, and she didn’t think it would resurface anytime soon. Whoever this man—or creature—was, he wasn’t going anywhere until he got what he wanted from her.

“What happens if I don’t want to play the game?” she asked.

“You lose.”

“And what happens if I lose?”

“Then Taylor wins.” The Tricker-Treater’s smile tore across his face. “And I take you away forever.”

Moira’s throat constricted. So he did want to kill her. Even if he acted like she had a choice, she didn’t.

Riley had already chosen for her. He had sealed her fate.

But what did Taylor have to do with it?

“Taylor?” she asked.

“To fulfill Riley’s deal, I must receive a sacrifice. He had to present me with someone he loves and someone he hates to play the game. I balance the scales. The loser dies.”

Jesus Christ, she thought, what had Riley done?

“He’s too young to make a deal like that,” she said. “You’re taking advantage of him.”

“I don’t discriminate,” he said. “A wish is a wish, and I must grant it. You must play the game, or die. These are my conditions.”

“What if Taylor and I both refuse? You only need to kill one of us, right? And you seem reasonable. You wouldn’t kill us to prove a point.”

“No.” The Tricker-Treater’s smile twisted into something darker, more feral. Moira wanted to scream, but panic kept her gaze fixed on his face. “In the case of two refusals, I take the wish-maker instead.”

Moira gulped. “You’d kill Riley.”

“Kill is such a boring word for what I do, but yes. Riley would become the sacrifice.” He steepled his fingers again. “But of course, you always have a choice.”

Did he think she’d let Riley die? She must have been Riley’s “someone he loves,” which meant the Tricker-Treater had to know she loved him too. She couldn’t damn him.

Only one thing to do.

“I’ll play,” Moira said.

“Wonderful. Let’s go.”

The Tricker-Treater snapped his fingers, Moira felt a tug, and the whole world went dark.

* * *

The reek of iron pulled Moira from unconsciousness. Her eyelids snapped open, pupils unfocused as they sought the light. Only a spare bulb hung overhead, struggling through the shadows. A familiar teenage form swam into view, fastened to a chair by ropes.

Taylor.

A shadow skulked off to Taylor’s left, and Moira’s gaze floated over to it. A long, lanky figure broke from the blackness and formed a solid shape. Sharp teeth glittered in the light as the creature grinned.

The Tricker-Treater.

He snapped his fingers again, and the lightbulb shattered. Moira went to shield her face from the exploding glass, but ropes restrained her. The Tricker-Treater had tied her down too.

A brilliant light enveloped the room, blinding Moira for a minute. The light faded to a ball that hovered over the Tricker-Treater’s head. It was small, but somehow bright enough for her to make out everything in the room, including Taylor.

She looked back at the boy. Blood dripped from ragged scratches in his cheek and stained the front of his shirt. That must have been the source of the iron smell—Taylor’s blood.

Moira looked to the Tricker-Treater for an explanation.

“He struggled,” he said, “so I had to be rough. But he’s learned his lesson. Haven’t you, Taylor?”

Taylor groaned and twisted against the ropes. The Tricker-Treater clicked his tongue and wagged a finger at Taylor. He froze.

“Think it’s time for me to explain the rules of the game to you both,” the Tricker-Treater said. “But no cheating. Is that understood?”

Moira still didn’t know what was going on, but she nodded nonetheless. Whatever game he had in mind, she had to win, for Riley’s sake.

She didn’t know what would happen to Taylor, except that he might die. She’d cross that bridge when she came to it.

Across the room, Taylor grunted.

The Tricker-Treater gave a wet, hacking cough. Moira watched it rattle his prominent ribcage. Had he not been so frightening, she might have worried for him. As it was, she wished the cough had been worse.

The Tricker-Treater pulled another chair away from the table. It scraped across the floor with a sound that bit Moira’s eardrums. She flinched.

He lowered his long body into the chair and removed his hat, exposing his shiny, red baldness.

“I will now explain the rules, and I will not repeat myself. You both must pay attention if you want to win.”

“I don’t give a shit about winning,” said Taylor. “I don’t even want to play. I don’t give a shit about Riley.”

A muscle jerked in Moira’s jaw. What an asshole. Did this kid understand what he was saying?

“That’s not what you said to me earlier,” the Tricker-Treater said. “You agreed to play the game because you wanted him to live.”

Moira almost didn’t believe it, but the Tricker-Treater had no motive to lie.

The Tricker-Treater stretched a hand toward Taylor, and Taylor’s eyes widened. The Tricker-Treater’s razor claws glittered in the light.

“You’ll play,” he said, “or Riley dies.”

Taylor shut his eyes. “Okay, okay, but please don’t hurt me.”

“It isn’t me you should worry about.”

Moira swallowed a curse. As much as she hated to cooperate with this… thing, it seemed like they had no choice. If she didn’t play the Tricker-Treater’s game, Riley would die. She wouldn’t let that happen.

"What do I have to do?" she asked.

The Tricker-Treater's smile widened. Moira withheld a shiver. Taylor flattened himself against the back of the chair, trying to get as far away as possible.

"Once I untie you both," the Tricker-Treater said, putting his hat back on, "you'll have fifteen minutes to choose a weapon and determine the sacrifice."

Moira frowned. "Kill each other?"

"So vulgar," he replied.

"I don't want to kill an old lady," Taylor said.

Like he even could if he wanted to, Moira thought. In her own way, she agreed—she didn't want to kill him, and she didn't want to die.

Riley couldn't die, either. She'd do what she could, whatever she had to. It wasn't a choice.

"Where are the weapons?" Moira asked.

Taylor gaped at her. "We don't have to do this!"

“I detest idle chatter,” the Tricker-Treater said. “Such a waste of precious time.”

Moira stiffened at his words. Did that mean they’d started? Were they supposed to get going? Why was she still tied up, then? The Tricker-Treater had said—

A click of his fingers and her bindings dissolved. Fuck, she had to get moving. She liked the word fuck, although Norman never had, and the way his face used to scrunch up when she said it to him—

“Moira,” the Tricker-Treater warned. “You don’t have time for reminiscing.”

She chose not to dwell on the discomfort of having him inside her mind in favor of finding a weapon.

But where the fuck were they?

Taylor was squealing something she didn’t care to listen to because she didn’t care more than for any other reason. She didn’t want to kill him but they would soon be out of time, and if she didn’t do anything—whether he killed her or not—Riley was in danger.

Moira dragged herself out of the chair and looked around the room. It was still difficult to see, with the only lighting coming from the flames conjured by the Tricker-Treater, but they were surrounded by several different boxes of all shapes and sizes.

Taylor leaped up from his chair and dove headfirst into the box behind him, digging like a dumpster-diver in search of castoff treasures. Shit, she had to get a move on or he’d kill her with whatever he found.

Moira started with a box on her left, plain cardboard on the outside, unassuming enough. As she dug through a pile of moth-eaten clothes, the sharp edge of something bit the palm of her hand. She cried out. Upon further, much more hesitant, inspection, she discovered the source of the wound—a Japanese samurai sword.

That’s a katana, Norm corrected in her head.

Moira didn’t have time to smile. She wrapped her fingers around the base of the sword and pulled—

Right as Taylor came sprinting toward her with a hatchet in his hands. The metal glinted as he brought it down, right as Moria darted out of the way.

“Jesus, Taylor!”

“Stand still!”

He lifted the hatchet and swung it down again, with Moira only narrowly dodging it this time. She was close enough to hear the whoosh of the blade as it came down past her face. As she ducked to the side, so did Taylor. His third hit struck her shoulder. White-hot flames lit Moria’s muscle fibers and leaked pain down her arm. Warm blood dripped off her elbow.

Jesus fuck, that hurt.

Movement caught the corner of her eye and she whirled around, still clutching her injured shoulder. Taylor had raised the hatchet again. She had to get out of his way.

Still carrying the sword, Moira feinted left. Taylor took the bait and swung. She moved right, raised the sword, hesitated—

The light went out. Moira couldn’t see one inch in front of her face. Distantly, the Tricker-Treater’s claws clicked against a hard surface. Dragged against it, more like.

Moira shivered.

Mooooiiiiraaaaaaaaa…

She jabbed with the sword, wincing as the blade bounced off the wall. She was almost relieved that she hadn't hit Taylor.

Something rough brushed her calf. She jerked back, swallowing a cry. Something metal clattered to the ground, and Taylor yelped.

"Don't move, Taylor."

"Are w-we out of time?" As brave and seemingly bloodthirsty as he'd been moments before, there was no denying the way his voice shook. Hatchet or not, he was only a kid. He had his whole life ahead of him.

And she'd tried to kill him.

Moira let go of the katana. It, too, clattered to the floor. "What's up with turning the lights off, huh? Not fucked up enough as it is?"

"I assumed it would be easier for you to kill him with the lights off," the Tricker-Treater said. "That way, you wouldn't have to see him."

"Whose side are you on?" Taylor countered. His voice had an edge to it that scared her, sharpened by fear into pointed rage. It made him sound dangerous.

She didn't think he had the strength to kill her, but fear could drive someone to do the unthinkable.

And she'd let go of her weapon.

"I believe in leveling the playing field," the Tricker-Treater said. "Moira is, shall we say, more experienced in life, and Taylor has more energy. We correct this discrepancy with darkness."

Moira swallowed. In theory, everything he was saying made sense. But all she could think about was that there must be something she’d overlooked—something the Tricker-Treater had overlooked. In other words, a loophole.

Some way to save Riley without having to kill his brother.

She had to pick up the katana again. Without it, she was powerless. And, there was still a chance that Taylor would rediscover his bravado, would run toward her again with the hatchet raised, would bring it down and—

The Tricker-Treater chuckled in the gloom, and Moira knew he’d been inside her head again. Shit, that was… inconvenient, to say the least. How could she try to find a loophole if he was listening in on everything she thought?

Get the fuck out of my head, she thought.

Again, the Tricker-Treater chuckled. “Manners, Moira. But… I would be remiss not to heed your request, as vulgar as it might have been phrased. All you had to do was ask.”

Moira gaped at him in the darkness—or, at least, she gaped in what she assumed was his direction. It was still impossible to see anything, and though the Tricker-Treater had claimed he was just leveling the playing field, Moira couldn’t understand how this was supposed to help her.

Distantly, Taylor whimpered. Could he be afraid of the dark?

“Please,” he said. “Turn on the lights.”

The Tricker-Treater’s claws clicked together as he contemplated Taylor’s request. “Moira, what do you think?”

What did she think? She thought this whole twisted game was a goddamn mess. She thought it was ludicrous that this… demon expected her to kill a child, or the child to kill her. She thought she would do almost anything to save Riley because she loved him, but she wasn’t sure she could do this.

Most of all, Moira thought she had already lost. She had to change her mind somehow, or else she really would. Find the loophole, she reminded herself. There had to be an angle she hadn’t yet considered.

Moira shuffled her feet. The point of the katana bit into her shin and she fought the urge to cry out. Warm liquid seeped from the wound—not too much, but not too little to escape her notice. The darkness heightened everything. Tentatively, she bent over and fumbled around for the handle, praying her fingers wouldn’t graze the blade. At last, they closed around fabric—the binding on the handle—and she pulled it up with both hands as she rose to a standing position.

“Moira,” the Tricker-Treater prompted again. And… the idea came to her.

If she could kill the Tricker-Treater, she could end the game. She’d win, without killing Taylor, and Riley would be safe.

Of course, she knew next to nothing about the Tricker-Treater’s fortitude, although he seemed like a formidable foe. She had to give it a shot. Anything was better than plunging the blade into Taylor.

“Turn on the lights,” Moira answered.

She tightened her grip on the blade and widened her stance to give her more stability. Sweat trickled down the side of her neck. Her heart beat so loudly it threatened to deafen her, but she stayed grounded. She didn’t have a choice.

The Tricker-Treater snapped his fingers, and the lights flickered on again. Moira coordinated her attack with the fluorescent flash. She ran full speed, katana thrust forward like a jousting lance. Taylor gasped, eyes widening in horror—until Moira jabbed the sword into the Tricker-Treater’s gut.

“Shit!” Taylor yelled.

The Tricker-Treater didn’t flinch. He didn’t scream, nor did he give any other indication that he had been struck. Instead, he wrapped his clawed fingers around the blade and looked right at Moira. The twisted grin he produced was the worst thing she’d ever seen.

“Well, now. Isn’t this exciting?”

Moira trembled, but she didn’t let go of the handle. If she did, she was afraid he’d find a way to turn the blade on her. Taylor crept closer to the scene, face ashen. He was trembling, too, even as he reached out to take the sword from Moira.

She shook her head vehemently. “You’re not responsible for this. Taylor, if anything happens—”

“It isn’t polite to speak about others as though they aren’t there,” the Tricker-Treater chimed in. He was still holding onto the blade, still the picture of tranquility even as the sword stuck out of his stomach and black blood dripped from the wound onto the floor. “I wonder if you two have forgotten your manners.”

“Fuck you,” Taylor spat.

Moira had to agree, though she couldn’t find the words. All she could focus on was the blood, the way it poured from the Tricker-Treater’s stomach even though the wound was technically still sealed up, and—

The Tricker-Treater flexed his claws, and his grin widened. The blade slipped out of Moira’s hands.

“Taylor!” Moira shouted.

The blade shot backward out of the Tricker-Treater’s stomach and whirled around to point at Taylor. He reacted a second too late. Moira stared in horror as the black-bloodstained tip pushed into Taylor’s chest. He stiffened, limbs flying out, mouth open, eyes the size of galaxies—

And then, his body dropped. It made a sick thwack as it landed.

Moira turned her head and puked. When she turned back, the Tricker-Treater was hunched over, holding his hat in his hands. He had the decency not to grin.

“Oh, dear,” he said. “This is… less than ideal.”

If she weren’t so afraid, she would have smacked him. “‘Less than ideal’? A child is dead! You fucking killed him, you son of a bitch.”

“If I hadn’t, you would have.”

“I wouldn’t have,” she insisted. “You’ve been inside my head. You must have known I wouldn’t.”

“Hmph.” The Tricker-Treater twisted his hat in his hands. He was having trouble looking Moira in the eye. “Well, this does present a challenge.”

She wrangled the urge to strangle him. “What are you talking about?”

“The rules of the game were clear. To save Riley, there must be a sacrifice.” He paused, as though waiting for her to remember the rules. “One of you must kill the other.”

“But we can’t now. Taylor’s dead.” Realization dawned on Moira, eclipsing the fear. “You killed him. That’s the loophole.”

“So it would seem.” If he was upset about Moira’s admission of looking for a loophole, it didn’t show. If anything, he was so lost in contemplation he paid her no mind. She could have attacked him then. Taylor’s hatchet lay on the floor not far from his body. If she leaned forward a little—

But what would happen to Riley? If she killed the Tricker-Treater, would she forfeit the game? She couldn’t wager Riley’s life on a spur-of-the-moment choice.

Instead, she had to bide her time and see what the creature decided.

“Unfortunately,” he said. “Riley must perish.”

All the blood drained from Moira’s face. Like hell he must, she thought. “What are you talking about? I played your stupid game. Taylor… well, that means I won. Those were your rules, remember?”

“Alas, Moira, that isn’t the case.” The Tricker-Treater clicked his tongue. “Neither of you did as I asked, as was required of you, so there is no winner. And, as there’s no winner, Riley’s life is forfeit. I’m afraid those are the rules.”

Moira’s stomach roiled. There had to be another way. She had to save Riley somehow, otherwise, Taylor had died for nothing. She refused to lose Riley, refused to let his mother bury both her sons.

“Take me instead,” she pleaded.

The Tricker-Treater hesitated. “That wasn’t part of the deal. Your life is only forfeit should the other participant take it. As the other participant is dead, there is no reason for your life to end.”

His logic and politeness made her want to tear her hair out. “Taylor shouldn’t have died. I didn’t kill him. Doesn’t that change up your shitty rules somehow?”

Again, he hesitated. His face twisted up as though he were in pain. “I concede that Taylor’s departure was unnecessary, given the game’s objective. Reckless, even. However… there must be some punishment for you.” The Tricker-Treater looked pointedly at the hole in his gut. “You also broke the rules.”

“You never said I couldn’t attack you,” she argued.

His mouth twitched. “Fair enough. Hm… let’s do this. What do you think I should do to you, Moira? What sort of fate would be equitable?”

Moira’s tongue sat like lead in her mouth. How was she supposed to make such a strange decision? The question wasn’t one she’d planned for. He wasn’t in her head anymore, so she wondered if she could just throw something out there, something far from “fair,” in terms of extremity. Or, perhaps he already knew what he would do to her, and he was just playing another sick game?

“Tick-tock,” said the Tricker-Treater.

Moira swallowed. Hard. If Norm were here, he’d have the perfect idea. He was always so wise, her Norm, even when he was being silly. The last time they’d watched Groundhog Day together, he’d said—

Groundhog Day. Yes, that was the answer. It was the only way for her to atone, while still paying homage to her husband. And, it was the only way to make sure Riley’s mother got her son back—and got to keep Riley, too.

It wasn’t a fate Moira looked forward to, but it was a fate she accepted.

She gave the Tricker-Treater a watery smile. “Have you seen any Bill Murray movies?”

* * *

When Moira came to, she was covered in sweat. Sunlight streamed through the blinds, and birds chirped outside. Jesus. She felt like she’d been run over by a train.

Out of habit, even after a year, she rolled over to look at Norm’s side of the bed. She smoothed a hand over the blankets and sighed. “Miss you more than ever, hon.”

Outside, the distant hum of a mower pierced the air. She must have slept in much later than usual. A glance at the clock on her nightstand confirmed her suspicions, and she groaned. That would teach her to go through a whole bottle of wine by herself.

A weird pain flared in Moira’s shoulder. When she reached for it, the feeling vanished. She checked under her shirt. Nothing.

Must just be part of getting old, she thought.

It seemed like it was going to be a nice day, what with the birds chirping and sunlight and all. Maybe she’d crawl out of bed and do something fun for a change, bake some cookies to give to the neighbor kid, Riley. Maybe he’d share with his overworked mother. The poor dear was working more than she was home, and Moira knew she was exhausted.

An hour later saw Moira dressed and pulling fresh cookies from the oven, the smell filling the house like a bug bomb—albeit a delicious one. While she waited for the cookies to cool, she slipped on her shoes and went outside to fetch the paper.

Moira kicked spilled candy corn off her front step. The remnants of another weeknight massacre. This time, all in the name of a holiday.

She’d stopped keeping track of the holidays.

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